


Anachronism

by witchpointe



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Demons, Dirty Talk, Fae & Fairies, M/M, Magic, Past Abuse, Phoenixes, Sirens, Tarot, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2019-10-05 20:34:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17331893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchpointe/pseuds/witchpointe
Summary: Taekwoon is running out of ideas and time to save Hongbin. His last resort? Vampire blood.Vampire Sanghyuk is lured into a trap by Taekwoon's magic and wakes up imprisoned in his castle.Taekwoon offers him a deal he can't refuse.





	1. Like a Moth to a Flame

Sanghyuk is alone again. The single bulb from the reading booth casts a sliver of light from between the curtains that crawls across the dark floor and up the wall of herbs in tins. The crystals, secure under their glass case, hum to him in varying pitches. The streetlight opposite reflects in the mirror behind, creating the false illusion of light.

His shop looks so different at night, void of customers and energy and light.

He licks his fangs, hidden by blunt canines. He needs to feed, the stinging in his wrists becoming more insistent as the minutes slip away. Instead, he stares at the incense display across the room and rehashes their correspondences in his mind. Frankincense for purification, juniper for protection, dragon’s blood for love.

Love. How many would he have to burn for--

_You never tell me anything!_

_I tell you everything you need to know, Sanghyuk._

The hollowness in his chest expands, threatening to swallow him whole. His voice is still so clear, so insistent. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think the walls here speak to him in his maker’s voice.

If only he’d been patient, if he had listened better and studied harder. If he hadn’t decided to take matters into his own, impatient hands. Would he have stayed? Or would Sanghyuk have driven him away? There are no answers. There never were. Except perhaps the only conclusion that came to him time and again, in his voice: _Now who is going to love you?_

Sanghyuk is glad he’s too low on blood to cry.

He feels in his jeans for his wallet and his keys. He locks the door behind him and crushes a handful of rosemary, letting it fall from his palm onto the dirty threshold as he murmurs a protection spell. Cold, January air hits his face and hands and he shivers down into his flannel, looking up and down the street. It looks much the same as it always does, neon lights and pedestrians, fewer cars than one might think. Quiet, for its proximity to downtown. Laughter and music burst forth from the Irish pub across the street, a couple exiting with arms around each other.

He turns and walks the opposite way from his apartment. No doubt he could feed from the pub, or one of his many usual stops on the way home. But the idea sickens him, of adhering to the same boring routine, made from necessity and depression. He craves something new, something exciting; anything to get his mind off the mistakes he's made.

How he wishes he had someone regular. Not a lover, or even a friend--just someone on which he could rely, a feeder that got some of the same pleasure from it as he did.

As he walks on, the sparse shops and bars become more common, until he’s in the heart of downtown. The sounds of traffic, of people, of life comfort him more than he’s expecting. As an empath, crowds usually tire him beyond comfort, others’ emotions falling into him like insistent drops of rain. It takes far too much time and ingredients to make empath damping potions for everyday use; he suffers with those around him wherever he goes.

The auras are almost as bad. Whirls of color everywhere he looks. When people are lying. What they’re feeling. No one is a stranger to Sanghyuk--a simple glance tells him so much more than he wants to know.

Hunger thrums up his arms as a pack of teenagers stop beside him, waiting for the signal to cross the street. Everything about them is loud: their voices, their breathing, their heartbeats.

Their heartbeats. He comes to realize, as the orange hand turns to a white man, that he’s going to kill tonight. He needs his veins overflowing with it, the animalistic drive rising up from his thighs and growling up his spine.

It’s always a deliciously powerful feeling, searching for a victim. Throngs of humans like a million little candles, and Sanghyuk holds each of their souls in his hands, deciding which to snuff out. But not here, not now.

Across the street and down an alley, Sanghyuk sees a balcony door cracked open, inviting him inside with the faint smell of blood like a moth to the flame. Sanghyuk swallows. Humans are such fragile, arrogant creatures.

Climbing up to the third floor, he pushes aside the drapes to reveal a simple bedroom lit by a single bedside lamp. Mismatched bed linens tumble to the floor and the stench of rotting milk rises from a trio of grey glasses beside the lamp. Across the room, a clear plastic vase clenches a single dead rose. The wilted petals have fallen in a halo around it on the otherwise empty dresser top. There is nothing of consequence at all in the room, and yet it carries the unmistakable scent of sumptuous human blood.

Which is probably also why the entire place reeks of demon.

“And you've enjoyed it, haven't you?”

A single, soft voice rises from outside the cracked bedroom door. Sanghyuk can see the rough makings of two auras--one a deep magenta, the other a mustard yellow--through the bedroom wall. The magenta aura is erratic; it jumps and tugs with energy, making the smooth heather wall between them appear to crawl toward him.

The voice again. “At least I've learned my lesson.”

He should leave. He should slink back through the curtains the way he came, leaving these demons to their demon business. The hunger swims in his veins, and yet he also feels the flame of the kill, the power of the predator. He feels it in the tips of his fingers and the edge of his mind. The magenta aura is overflowing with it.

Violent pain slashes through his skull. Head in his hands, claws exposed, he falls to one knee and grits his teeth until his jaw trembles with the strain of the ache. A muffled screech surrounds him, and when it finally subsides he hears his own breath, realizes the scratch in his chest is his own panting. He wipes the sweat from his temple on the back of his hand.

Shorter, shallower yells continue from the other room. Mostly recovered, Sanghyuk drags himself to the door to peer through.

“Jesus, shut up.”

The condescending voice comes from a spindly giant of a human veneer, the owner of the magenta aura which has eased into a mist about him. His fine black hair falls into his eyes as he leans over his prey, speaking low. Tied to a ratty brown recliner with long strips of cloth gagging his mouth is his victim. Their own human veneer is straining, bleeding in and out in a sickening mosaic of greasy facial features. Magenta has a very long, very sharp knife that glints in the light from the overhead fan as he saws through his victim's chest.

The feeling of the kill kindles again, this time through the veins in his neck. He closes his eyes and savors it, careful not to sigh against the pleasure. Dominance takes over, and magenta steps back to take in the view--the supremacy of knowing you have someone completely at your mercy.

Yellow's attempts to tug free are now sloppy and unsteady, their breathing labored. They've gone quiet, as Magenta wanted. Sanghyuk licks his lips as the navy blue blood begins to run down the stumpy peg legs of the chair.

“I know you’re there.” 

Magenta says it in the most indifferent way, just as he plunges his hand into the wound he’s made into Yellow’s chest cavity and Yellow yells again.

Sanghyuk swallows; he doesn’t answer.

Waving the hair out of his face with rolls of his neck, Magenta continues, turning his wrist this way and that, “I can sense more than your heart rate. You must be a very new vampire.”

Sanghyuk’s heart pounds against his chest and he backs away from the door in vain.

“It’s alright, baby vampire.” He presses a long, spidery leg on Yellow’s chest and tugs once, twice, three times before he tumbles backward with a hard grunt. In his hand, covered in sap-like blood, is a striking neon-blue heart, twice the size of a human heart. “In fact, you can have his blood if you want it. I only have a taste for demon hearts.” 

Sanghyuk opens the door, revealing himself. Magenta looks up and takes measure of him, simply raising an eyebrow before turning back to the heart and biting what’s left of the aorta from the top.

Sanghyuk draws backward, watching him grind the tough tissue between his teeth. It’s gruesome without sharp teeth to tear the rubbery flesh; his dull teeth sink into the organ over and over, making squelching noises.

Sanghyuk is still in the doorframe, standing slightly sideways in order to fit into it. “I’m--I didn’t mean to--”

Magenta waves a hand at him. He takes another bite, this time from one of the heart chambers themselves, and a sharp line of blood squirts back behind him toward the tiled kitchen floor.

“Let’s not talk,” he says, mouth full. “The blood will run cold.”

Sanghyuk looks again at the demon tied to the chair. He can smell the viscous blood from where he’s standing, and the hunger threatens to take over, forgetting for the moment that anyone is watching. A low moan gurgles out of the demon and his misery, his guilt, washes over Sanghyuk. He can’t let anyone suffer like this; he’s only seen an aura droop this low once before and--

He kneels at the foot of the chair, feeling either the wetness or the cold seep into the knees of his pants. The demon--a goblin, he can see him clearly now with the veneer faded, somehow clings to the edges of life without a heart. Clotted blue blood oozes from his chest. His slitted eyes follow Sanghyuk in a languid fashion as he moves.

“I’m going to end your suffering now,” Sanghyuk whispers.

Taking the goblin’s clawed, scaly hand, he squeezes it for comfort before turning it and bringing the wrist to his mouth. His skin is thick; it takes two tears for it to give under his fangs. The taste of demon on his tongue is sharp, but not unpleasant, as he licks farther into the wound.

A sharp prick in the side of his thigh yanks him back. Magenta is standing between him and the long oak table, hand around the syringe sticking out from his thigh, shoving his thumb down on the plunger.

“Ketamine laced bat’s blood,” Magenta says, smiling with one side of his mouth. “It’s so easy to make.”

Bat’s blood. A sedative. Ketamine, a _drug_.

Staring in disbelief as Magenta yanks the needle from his leg, Sanghyuk clutches the sides of the chair. He feels light-headed and off balance, like he’s just stood up too fast. He feels it then, just as he rises: the blanket of magic in the air, swirling around his nose and throat. It’s a spell.

Lunging at his attacker, Sanghyuk goes for the throat. Magenta hits the table as Sanghyuk crashes into him, and the entire thing topples sideways. They fall to the floor, Sanghyuk on top. Magenta’s high pitched shriek startles him as his claws pin his wrists to the carpet. Luscious purple blood seeps out against his fingers, smelling like the best of humans and demons both. Dizzy and fascinated, Sanghyuk can’t help but lift his claws to his mouth and suck.

Magenta slams his forehead into Sanghyuk’s nose. Swearing, he falls sideways against the recliner as his own blood begins to trickle down his lips. He wipes it with the back of his hand. Sharp zaps of Magenta’s anger linger in Sanghyuk’s gut. His head feels like cotton, and the edges of his vision collapse in until it’s as if he’s looking through a tunnel.

Magenta grabs him by the front of his shirt and punches him again and again, aiming for his cheekbones, his jaw. He continues even after Sanghyuk’s vision crosses and blurs, long after it’s clear that he’s no longer fighting back.

Sanghyuk tries to pounce again, but instead he only lurches forward, grasping onto Magenta’s arms to steady himself. He looks at his hands as if they’ve betrayed him, his fingertips, instead of claws, flex against Magenta’s bony forearms. All through this Magenta watches him, a puzzled look arranging his sharp features.

Sanghyuk falls away, back into the overlong shag carpet.

Magenta stands, steadying himself on the table. He inspects his wrists and groans before gathering a briefcase from behind the fallen table. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he says, once he’s back in Sanghyuk’s weary vision. His aura is like waves of gentle smoke. He isn’t lying.

Sanghyuk never loses consciousness. It only makes the process all the more terrifying. He can move, but only at such a sluggish pace that it makes no difference at all. Time ceases, creeping along at an indifferent speed. Colors are garish, causing him to close his eyes now and again against their vulgar appearance.

Magenta lifts and throws him over his shoulder, and the sensation feels like flying. A giggle slips out of him that only horrifies him further. They may get into a car, or maybe Magenta starts to run. They must be traveling for hours. His surroundings fly by and he's jostled in a way he hasn’t been since he was human. His empty, thirsty veins scratch along his skin.

He cries out when a door slams shut. Another voice weaves through the buzzing in his head. A deeper voice. They’re angry. Sanghyuk is trying to listen, to discern anything about his location, but he can’t keep his eyes open or his attention focused. It’s darker now, so much darker. And quieter. The angry voice echoes all around him.

“You’re not going to keep him in the _dungeon_!”

“Until he’s agreed, yes, I am.”

 

 

 

~ * ~

 

 

 

“You’re not going to keep him in the _dungeon_!” Hakyeon yells, his shoes clicking against the cement stairs as he follows Taekwoon under the house.

The light overhead finally flickers on above them, casting one side of Taekwoon’s face in shadow. “Until he’s agreed, yes, I am.”

He says it in the way that always seeps under Hakyeon’s skin, like the world is Taekwoon’s and it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks or who else gets hurt.

Hakyeon rushes ahead of Taekwoon and swipes his fingers across the victim’s eyes, blowing a sigh of relief when he goes unconscious.

Taekwoon lets the man slide off his shoulder onto the ground, causing a great billow of dust. He coughs, waving his hand in front of his face.

“Ugh.” He rubs at his shoulder. “Why did I have to catch such a _large_ vampire.”

“I can't believe you,” Hakyeon whispers viciously. “There are consequences to your actions, do you ever think before you--”

“I would die for Hongbin.” Taekwoon is growling in his face, and Hakyeon very carefully avoids his flashing red eyes, instead taking in the blood smeared across his forehead, the bruise blooming underneath it.

Hakyeon sighs, letting his shoulders droop. “You’re so dramatic.” He reaches for a strand of hair that’s fallen across Taekwoon’s cheekbones, but he jerks away.

“Check him for injuries, but don’t heal his leg.” He stomps up the stairs past Hakyeon. “I think I broke his nose.”

Hakyeon rubs his fingers harshly into his forehead. A migraine pushes at his sinuses, and the dust down here compounds the pressure. He approaches the body carefully, as if it were going to spring up and attack him at any moment. All his long years on this earth, and he’s never been this close to a vampire. Granted, he spent most of them in the sea.

The single lightbulb above the stairs does nothing to illuminate his patient, it only serves to cast long shadows juxtaposed with fragments of yellowed light. He closes his eyes and wills the light to fade away, opening them again once he regains the darkness. Palms up, he summons a spark of light to float above him, a white glow less sinister than the swinging yellow bulb.

“You poor thing,” Hakyeon whispers, moving the vampire’s face gently with his fingertips. The bruises are a deep burgundy under his eyes, fading into lighter purple across his cheekbones and jaw. “You weren’t even given the choice.”

Gliding his hand over the vampire’s face, he then watches slowly as the bruises fade and the nose realigns itself. Large, strong features emerge, if the nose stays looking a little swollen.

“Aren’t you cute.”

Hakyeon moves to inspect the vampire’s left thigh, tearing his jeans farther to get a better look. He winces. Taekwoon clearly took no care in injecting him with the poison. It’s going to hurt like hell when he wakes up. He also won’t be able to move it without intense pain--the reason why Taekwoon doesn’t want him to heal it.

Squeezing one fist in the other, Hakyeon looks back at the dungeon’s door. He could heal it. Taekwoon would get over it, it’s not like the vampire is going anywhere at this rate anyway, and where could he go? Miles and miles of forest the only thing that surrounds them, and Taekwoon would hunt him down like a bloodhound.

He sighs. He shouldn’t. He can’t. His loyalty is to Taekwoon, no matter what an ass he can be. But this poor boy--

Into his hand he whispers a spell, light and airy. He lies his hand on the vampire’s thigh until his fingers tingle, then pulls away. Taekwoon will never know if he dampens the pain just a little.

Checking over the rest of the body for injuries, he finds none. He wearily glances at the wall behind them, glad Taekwoon didn’t make use of the cuffs on the wall or the ball and chain. Perhaps he does have a little mercy.

Hating to leave him alone, Hakyeon drags himself up the stairs to search out Taekwoon. He finds him in the kitchen, just as he lifts half a heart out of his briefcase.

Hakyeon makes a face. “So that’s what you make your excursions for?”

Taekwoon doesn’t look up. “I don’t enjoy eating demon flesh, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Hakyeon hums, smiling. “You know I can probably procure them some other way.”

“I’m fine with hunting.” Taekwoon shuts the briefcase and locks it.

“Isn’t it a bit like cannibalism?”

“It’s a lot like cannibalism.”

So carefully, Taekwoon lifts the heart into a ziploc and releases the air before he presses it shut.

“You’re going to have to get blood for him,” Taekwoon says, tucking the demon heart away into the freezer. “A lot of it. He’s a horse.”

“Are we not going to talk about the fact that you kidnapped someone?”

“No.”

Taekwoon huffs a short sigh, rubbing at his shoulder again, moving it in circles. He looks terrible, more than just physically. The dark circles, the new wrinkles at the edges of his eyes. Hakyeon knows how the pressure eats at him more than anyone. With Hongbin’s health declining, Taekwoon has a ticking clock chasing him, it’s only gotten worse. Hakyeon isn’t even sure he sleeps anymore.

“Woonie.” Hakyeon leans across the countertop, grasping his hand. “Let me make it better.”

Taekwoon stares at him, unblinking. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I deserve what he’s given me.”

Hakyeon squeezes his hand until he looks back. “You’re doing what you have to for your brother. You’ve given so much for him, so much more than he’ll ever know. Why suffer needlessly?”

Taekwoon gives him a weary look.

“Please?” Hakyeon repeats. He raises Taekwoon’s hand to his lips and kisses each fingerpad through a smile. “I’ll make it good.”

That, finally, gets him to smile.

For the first time in months, Taekwoon allows Hakyeon inside him. His hands glide across Taekwoon's body, searching out the broken and weary, mending flesh and grief alike. The demon shivers underneath him, tensing, relaxing, his body at odds against the varying sensations. His responsiveness drives Hakyeon on, giving and giving until he has nothing left.

For the first time in months, Taekwoon spends the night somewhere other than his lab. Long after he's lost to dreams, Hakyeon watches his tired features, disturbed even in sleep. He knows when he wakes up Taekwoon will be gone.


	2. Orange and Sandalwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanghyuk regains consciousness, Hakyeon gets his way, and Taekwoon tries to make amends.

Sanghyuk wakes up with a heaving gasp, curling in on himself. Wedges of his nightmares linger: goblins with ear-to-ear mouths full of fangs feasting on his exposed tibias; caught in a thick human-sized spider web as rain beats down heavily. His head pounds behind his eyes and his throat is dry. The ground underneath him is so cold and so hard.

Then he remembers why. A demon has him in a dungeon. Putting weight on his left thigh is painful, and having nowhere to go, he relaxes back onto the stone floor. 

Moonlight slants through a small window on the other side of the area, illuminating little. The space is made largely of brick and arched throughout the long hall to create the illusion of different rooms. Behind him lies a rusted ball and chain and four cuffs adhered to the wall. Strangely, a rack of shelves sits opposite, holding a scattered mix of homely things: pillar candles, water bottles, coffee tins, and cans of vegetables.

Sighing just to hear the echo surround him, he wraps his arms around himself. He scoots carefully back to the brick wall and braces against it, hating the cold against his thinly clothed back. At least the plan isn’t to kill him. He remembers someone saying he has to agree to something. He thinks.

A groan draws his attention away from the neatly stacked canned goods. Scratches, scraping, the smallest grunts of effort to his right. He holds perfectly still, waiting, waiting until finally the frailest frame of a woman pulls herself across the ground through the archway.

“Are you okay?”

The answer is obvious, but he can’t do much in his prone state. He feels helpless, a state he doesn’t usually feel in his large vampiric form.

“Stop--stop moving, I think you’re making it worse.”

She’s close enough now to see her eyes, to smell her. She’s a demon. Her thick green aura chugs around her. She’s nothing but collarbones and ribs, inching toward him across the ground.

“Please,” she says. Her voice is made of dust. “End me.”

His thudding heart shatters against his ribs. He’s so hungry, so hungry that the hunger feels like a weight on his shoulders, an extra net of gravity pressing him toward the ground. She’s starved, miserable, there’s nothing left of her. Who knows how long she’s been down here, how long they plan on keeping her. He could--he should--

The living skeleton pounces, throwing him back against the wall. Curling her fingers, she grabs his bad thigh and he yells out, throwing his head back against the wall and arching. He bites against her neck, claws at her sides, but he’s horrified to realize again that both his fangs and his claws refuse to expand, leaving him preternaturally defenseless.

His arm shoots out, driving the base of his palm into her face. Her head snaps back more violently than he expects. She lunges again, teeth bared. Sanghyuk clutches her stringy hair, and using her own momentum, jerks out of the way to smash her brittle skull onto one of the foot restraints.

He moans freely at the sight of the blood running down her nose. Yanking her free, he holds her head with both hands and licks wildly up her face. He wants to bite, to feel the tear of flesh and the rush of blood within his mouth, but his woefully blunt teeth merely nip and bruise against her neck, drawing insignificant amounts. He whines, pent up fear, anger, frustration, and hunger threatening to spill over into tears.

Blood from her nose has dripped to the floor. He holds the head parallel to the ground, panting in his panic, mourning the loss of blood. The canned tomatoes across from him are a mockery of everything he can’t have.

Except--

Placing the body gently on the ground, Sanghyuk limps to the shelves, crying out with every step of his thigh muscle. Frantically he rifles through the cans, shoving them to the ground, searching for a pop-top lid. He discovers one in the stacks of corn and rips it off, limping back to the body and cradling it again.

So carefully, he lifts the edge to the carotid, slicing clean through. Dropping the sharp edge, forgotten, he finally lifts her neck to his lips and sucks.

It’s warm--hotter than human blood, hotter than his blood. It lightly stings the back of his throat every time he swallows and he can’t get enough into his mouth. He hoists her frame up, holding her bodily against him, arm around her waist, other hand bracing her skull. It’s spilling, past his lips and over his chin, down the front of his shirt, staining it dark and sticky. He’s never been this rough, this messy, but then he’s never been this hungry, this desperate. His tongue invades the slit for more in place of his fangs.

Her memories drip into his consciousness like a trickling faucet, slow and persistent. So much power, so much control, men and women alike consumed under her spell. Her gaze is heavy and sweet, syrupy in its restriction, and a single thought has her victim prostrate beneath her, eager to sacrifice it all.

The heart stops. Sanghyuk throws the body to the ground, heaving in gulps of musty air. He sits like this, kneeling on the ground and staring at the body until his knees begin to twinge and the stretch of his thigh becomes too much. He falls backward. 

Her ribs jut from her emaciated corpse and he still sees them even after he closes his eyes. He clasps his lips and jaw to hide a sob, but he only manages to smear blood across his hand.

Now he is alone again.

The second sob wracks through him violently, and he presses his forehead to the cold ground. He’s lost to his misery, forfeiting any dignity as his wails grow louder and return to him in echoes.

There’s no one to miss him, no one to realize he’s gone. No one will be looking for him. 

_Drip. drip._ Water falls from one of the arches down to create a muddy puddle near the demon’s ratty hair. He sniffs deeply with his sobs and smells dust, mold, and blood. Blood that is drying on his shirt, against his chest. _Drip drip drip._ He shivers from the cold and shakes from his crying.

The surface of the puddle shimmers. Sanghyuk sniffs, pulling his good leg up to hug against himself. How could the moonlight have flashed over here? Outside the caked window he can see nothing but black. The puddle is gone when he turns back, completely dry. Instead, the form of a man--not human, Sanghyuk’s nose tells him--is curled against the brick pillar, hugging his own legs. His aura is a silver-white, a thousand tiny chains circled tight about him. First the creature’s shock washes over Sanghyuk, but it fades into a tender sympathy that warms the tips of his freezing fingers.

Sanghyuk can only return his head against the ground and whine.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you.”

He’s expressly trying to make his voice as soft as he can, as if he’s talking to a caged animal. Sanghyuk closes his eyes and ignores him. If he doesn’t answer, maybe he’ll go away. Maybe all of this will go away.

“I only want to help you.”

He circles Sanghyuk until he’s in his view, raising his palms smoothly in the tell-tale signal of peace. Ever so faintly he shines of light, like moonlight on water. His eyes are kind, pleading for Sanghyuk to trust him. He wouldn’t, he doesn’t want to, except that his presence feels like velvet and the timbre of his voice is familiar.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeats. His aura shines brilliantly; he isn’t lying.

Sanghyuk bites his lip. “You told him not to put me down here.”

A slow smile spreads over the creatures face. “You remember that?”

“Let me go,” Sanghyuk whines.

In tiny, respectful steps, the creature moves closer, crouching down when he is in front of him.

“I can’t do that,” he whispers. 

His eyes are damp as they search Sanghyuk’s face, reaching out to brush his bangs from his eyes.

“I’ve come to take you out of here. I’m sorry that it wasn’t sooner.”

Sanghyuk closes his eyes, exhausted to his core. Delicate, the man curves his hand around Sanghyuk’s neck and pulls his body, tucking his head under his chin. Sanghyuk’s muscles relax in his grasp, and he nuzzles against the glossy silk of his shirt. He smells fresh, like salt on the sea breeze and some kind of flower. His fingertips glide across Sanghyuk’s scalp, leaving soft sparks in their wake. After he whines, he gets shushed.

“My name is Hakyeon, and I’m going to take care of you.”

 

 

~ * ~

 

 

As it turns out, the stairs out of the dungeon are simply around the first archway. Not that Sanghyuk could have escaped if he wanted to, with his butchered leg and the seven ridiculous magical locks on the door. Hakyeon apologizes after each one, leaving him to wobble on one foot atop the precariously narrow stairs.

He blinks rapidly against the harsh light that Hakyeon ushers him into. The walls are white, the ceiling is crystal--he keeps his head down from the blinding glow, staring at the contrast between the pristine bronze tile and Hakyeon’s black shoes. Hakyeon only bears Sanghyuk’s weight a few steps before hissing through his teeth.

“I’ve got it,” Sanghyuk grunts. “You can’t carry me.”

“Fine.”

“Where are we going?”

“You need a bath.”

“I want to leave.”

Hakyeon twirls to face him. “You can’t do that.”

“Why not? Because he says so?”

He looks away. A barrage of feelings tumble through his mind, and when they’re not soft, they’re sensual. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Is he your lover?”

Hakyeon chuckles. “That’s also complicated.”

“Oh my god, answer a question.”

Hakyeon clutches his shoulders and shakes him. His thumbs rub slow circles into Sanghyuk’s skin and the clenched muscles in his shoulders loosen and lower. His eyelids feel heavy, the enveloping warmth of the hallway a luscious change to his freezing hands.

“Okay,” Hakyeon sighs. “There is a hex that will prevent you from leaving this house.”

Sanghyuk presses his lips together. “A what?”

“It’s also preventing you from using any magic you may have--”

He clutches at Hakyeon’s shirt, searching both his eyes. “Please don’t keep me from my fangs.”

“Listen,” Hakyeon stresses, rubbing his arms again. “You’ve been through so much, I know this, and I’m sorry. You’re going to sit down tonight with Taekwoon and discuss your business arrangement like well-adjusted adults, but first you need to bathe. Look at you.”

Sanghyuk looks down at his black and white shirt, crisp with nasty, dead blood. He can only imagine what his face must look like.

“Yes. Yeah, okay.”

Hakyeon strings him along through the hallway. They enter a room of quiet opulence: stocky green plants are stationed between cream and gold seating arrangements lit by the kind of lighting only interior decorators use. Heavy mahogany tables carry small objects of unknown origin, some that move of their own accord and others that sparkle with their own light.

“Come,” Hakyeon gently urges him up the stairs to the left, and he runs his hand along the intricate wrought-iron bannister.

The hallway is a refreshing darker grey, illuminated by crystal sconces that flank grand mirrors and paintings. The only sound is both of them walking against the marbled tile floor; it’s too quiet, a magical muffling type of quiet. Every door he passes he wonders: would he find Magenta behind it? Or would he find something worse?

Hakyeon stops before a set of distressed-looking double doors and beams at him, clasping his hands in front.

Sanghyuk blinks at him. Hakyeon sighs.

“Well come on,” he says, holding one of the doors open and waving his hand, making his argent aura twirl back and forth.

Sanghyuk steps beyond the doors and is greeted by a lavish wall-length vanity. He gawks at his reflection: sunken eyes, hair matted with blood--his whole front plastered in it--he raises his hand around his neck, just to make sure his reflection is truly him. He can’t even recognize himself.

“Don’t look at that,” Hakyeon says, turning him by the arm.

He watches as Hakyeon busies himself collecting all manner of oil and salts from the cabinets.

“Hold these.” He shoves them into Sanghyuk’s hands without waiting for a response.

“I really don’t need all this,” Sanghyuk says to his back. “I just want a shower.”

After fishing out two indigo towels from another cabinet, Hakyeon returns to him.

“No,” he says, walking around the corner, “this is going to make you feel much better.”

Around the corner, the room spreads farther than he imagined. It seems far too large to actually fit into the space, yet cozy and intimate all the same. Crimson and khaki mosaic tile display a long Roman-style bath, already suspiciously gurgling and steaming.

“Is this a bathtub or a swimming pool?” Sanghyuk asks.

The question goes unanswered as Hakyeon begins popping tops and pouring in the oils and salts. Sanghyuk watches them disperse, wondering not for the first time what these things actually do in a bath besides not get you any cleaner. The oils shimmer on the surface in collected rings, sparkling with the faintest light. He unzips a pouch and holds it upside down, letting a mass of dried flower petals cascade to the surface.

“Okay, this is really--”

Hakyeon interrupts him by diving head-first into the bath. Upon contact with the water he is gone, leaving his clothing and shoes floating back toward the edge with the slight splash. Hands sweating, mouth dry, Sanghyuk scrambles to the edge and searches the water. He knows it was too shallow to really dive into at that velocity. But he’s tired, and he doesn’t want to think, and he doesn’t want to be alone in this place--

Hakyeon’s head emerges from the surface in front of him, raising until his nose touches Sanghyuk’s. Then he shrinks back, hiding his mouth behind the rim of the bath, laughing lightly.

Sanghyuk pouts. “That wasn’t funny.”

More giggles. “But I wanted to see the look on your face.”

“How did you do it?”

“I’m a siren, darling.”

“Is that why you can control me? Make me like you better?”

Hakyeon hums. “You’re clever, but I’m not controlling you. I’m relaxing you physically and mentally, but liking me is all you.” His grin is slow and playful. “Get in the bath.”

“Um… no thanks. I’ll wait til you’re done.”

“Don’t be silly,” Hakyeon says, throwing his soaked clothes over the side. “It’s meant for sharing.”

He’s not afraid to be naked with him, not really--the prospect of being without his fangs feels far more vulnerable than being naked. But if he is a siren--and all signs are pointing true--history tells him he doesn’t want to be on the water with one alone.

And yet, just as he suspects, the water calls to him like its weighted with importance. Hakyeon has had every opportunity to hurt him tonight and hasn’t taken it, hasn’t spoken a lie since they met. And the inset seat next to two of the jets looks particularly relaxing. 

He strips, hissing as he pulls his shirt over his head. 

The shimmering blue-green water cradles him like a womb. There must be magic in the water; it siphons the memory of the cold brick against his back, of the lifeless demon in his arms, of the syringe in his thigh. It replaces them with a piano under his touch, the taste of his maker’s blood. He slinks further in than he ever meant to, resting his neck against the side.

“Good?” Hakyeon asks, the only thing that keeps him from dozing away.

“I don’t even care that it’s enchanted,” he says, without opening his eyes.

“Magic troubles you.”

“No. Losing my autonomy troubles me.”

Hakyeon hums, and the sound is so much closer now. Sanghyuk opens his eyes just in time to see his arm extend beyond him. When he leans back, he presents a crystal platter holding a rainbow of muted pastel bars of soap containing large chunks of leaves and flowers. They smell good, but it’s all too strong to his vampire senses, flaring a pain between his eyebrows.

“I didn’t think this was that kind of bath,” Sanghyuk says, trying to remember what he’s learned about the Romans.

“It’s whatever I say it is,” Hakyeon says, floating before him. “Pick one.”

His sinuses ache. “Don’t you have anything… regular?”

Hakyeon retreats and frowns. Plucking the orange bar from the platter, he begins to lather his hands.

Sanghyuk sighs, edging his elbows back and staring at the ceiling. It looks as if it's been carved from stone--improbable--and vacant-eyed angels stare through him with somber expressions. A mural is arched at the highest part, a raging sea against a concave cliff, with naked men and women both sunning themselves on the rocks below.

Then there are a pair of soapy hands on his shoulders, oh so gently drawing them down the middle of his chest. He jolts backward but there’s nowhere to go--he’s pressed between the bath’s lip and Hakyeon’s hands.

“I can bathe myself.”

“Of course you can.” An expression crosses his features, and its not strong enough for Sanghyuk to tell if it’s unhappy or weary. “But isn’t it more luxurious when someone else does it?”

Sanghyuk feels a lick of regret, taking in the agitated form of the creature that has done nothing but give to him since they met. He opens his mouth to speak, but he finds that he has nothing to say, thinking only about hands that were delicate, and warm, and--yes, luxurious.

“Fine.”

His face lights up like one of the many fine crystalline chandeliers, and it’s an airiness in Sanghyuk’s chest, a delicate and innocent pleasure. Hakyeon’s aura puffs around him, looking nearly indifferent from the steam drifting off the water. He resumes his work, thumbs rubbing across Sanghyuk’s collarbones and making him shiver.

“Orange?” Sanghyuk asks.

Hakyeon nods. “And sandalwood.”

“Why did you choose it? It isn’t the one you use.”

“Hmm. Such strong senses.” He squeezes Sanghyuk’s arms. “Rest your head on my shoulder.”

He does as he’s told, the rest of his will to resist Hakyeon draining into the water. There is something impressively powerful about Hakyeon, beyond his gentle demeanor and disarming touch, a sentiment that perhaps he should be frightened of; instead the pads of Hakyeon’s soapy fingers seek out the sore spots in his back and he sighs, open-mouthed, against Hakyeon’s neck. The magic is there, trickling out from his fingers, curling around Sanghyuk’s spine and flowing out through his veins, making his limbs heavy. He wants to hate the feeling, to hate Hakyeon for doing it, but he hasn’t felt this safe in a long time.

Hakyeon’s fingers stroke up to his scalp to massage the soap in, and Sanghyuk should tell him to stop, because he’s always liked this a little too much--but his voice is lost and his toes curl, his feet running down the length of Hakyeon’s legs. When Hakyeon drags his fingernails along the curve of his skull, pinpricks bloom across the back of his thighs. He holds back the strangled noise caught in his throat, but Hakyeon’s standing to close not to notice--

“‘m sorry,” Sanghyuk mumbles. “Not--”

Hakyeon holds him close when he tries to wiggle away. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about liking my bath.”

“Not what I‘m embarrassed about.”

“I know what you’re embarrassed about,” he says, with a knowing smile. He tips Sanghyuk’s head back by the chin, lowing his hair into the water. “I wasn’t sure vampires could.”

“People get so many things wrong, it’s funny and frustrating.”

“Oh? What’s the worst?”

“That we can’t go into sunlight.”

“You aren’t nocturnal?” He pulls Sanghyuk upright, frowning. “I went through the trouble of UV-protecting all of your windows.”

Sanghyuk swallows. “ _My_ windows…”

“I know.” Hakyeon places a placating hand to his chest. A shadow falls over his features, and it’s too faint for Sanghyuk to tell if it’s sorrow or exasperation. “We can be done here, you need to speak to Taekwoon.”

Taekwoon. The beast that lured him into this trap. He had been so cavalier, so condescending--but then he had said he was sorry and genuinely meant it. There is fire rekindling in Sanghyuk’s veins, anger and dread, but tangled in is also a writhing sense of immense curiosity, growing by the minute. Where is he? Not in the city anymore, this place is far too big for that. Who are Hakyeon and Taekwoon? A demon and a siren that by all appearances like to play good cop-bad cop. Why do they want him--alive?

He has no answers for that. But Taekwoon does.

Hakyeon hoists himself up and over the side of the pool. The movement is fluid and graceful, and Sanghyuk catches himself watching the shine of the water and the way it rolls off his curves. Quickly, he turns away. He supposes that’s part of the call of the siren, but the magnetism is softer and more clear than he would have imagined.

When Hakyeon offers him a towel, he follows him from the bath and ruffles his hair. While watching the siren collect the bottles from the floor, he laments that it isn’t his hands that are patting his skin dry. He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, trying to break free from the magic of Hakyeon, of this place.

“Let’s go,” Hakyeon says. “Your room isn’t far.”

The hallway extends on both sides of them. Hakyeon ushers him to door on the left of the bathing room. But the hallway beyond looks much different than the beautiful lighting and upholstery he’s experienced so far. The relative darkness makes it hard to see, but from the light of a stained glass window Sanghyuk can see that the architecture looks old--very old--and there are dead leaves scattered on the ragged patterned carpet.

“What’s down that way?” Sanghyuk asks.

Hakyeon grabs his wrist and Sanghyuk looks back at him. “That’s the east wing, and there’s nothing there that concerns either of us.” He’s more rough with Sanghyuk than he’s ever been when he pulls him back toward the door.

The door is finely lacquered, hung with the number IV. Hakyeon opens it and rushes him in, closing the door behind them.

Sanghyuk is surrounded by finer things than he’s ever seen in his life. The walls are filigreed, delicate up to the ceiling, which holds a dimly lit electric chandelier made to look like flickering candles. It casts soft light upon the rounded corners in which stand stone statues of beautiful women set in notches. A set of double windows is indeed darkened by a film of UV protection and framed by forest green velvet curtains that match the curtains hanging from the enormous poster bed.

Hakyeon throws open the doors to the standing wardrobe. “Everything in here should fit you perfectly--yes, magic, don’t roll your eyes at me--and, ah, hopefully they’ll be to your taste. All I had to go on were the clothes you came in with. If you don’t like them I can help you pick out more later--”

“I’m not staying.”

Hakyeon purses his lips. “Yes, well. We both need to get dressed before the chill gets us. Taekwoon will be in shortly, so I suggest you don’t delay.”

The door shuts softly behind him.

He tries the knob but it won’t budge. Of course they’ve locked him in. He places a foot on the door frame and pulls on the knob while twisting, but it’s as if he’s not even touching the door. Of course they’ve locked him in _magically_. Before he can think it through he punches the door, but bounces back cradling his fist, finding the material much harder than the wood he was expecting. His knuckles throb, and he licks the tiny bits of blood that gather behind the split skin.

Wandering to the open wardrobe, Sanghyuk finds that Hakyeon was spot-on with his fashion sense. Expecting to find fancy dress clothes like both Hakyeon and Taekwoon had been wearing, instead he finds things he wouldn’t at all be upset to wear: flannels, soft hoodies, simple t-shirts and comfortable jeans. He pulls on what looks the best just before he hears a soft knock at the door.

“May I come in?”

Curling his upper lip, Sanghyuk decides to make the bastard wait. It’s then for the first time he realizes--his thigh doesn’t hurt anymore. He squeezes the muscle to make sure and yes, there isn’t a bit of residual soreness. What kind of bath magic--

“Hello?” Another knock on the door.

Sighing dramatically, he sits on the end of the bed. “Yeah, whatever.”

Magenta himself slinks through the door, looking much more slight than Sanghyuk remembers. Or perhaps it’s simply what he’s wearing--threadbare jeans and an oversized sweater. That isn’t something an evil demon that owns a castle should be wearing. A good disguise.

He stands before the door after closing it behind him, assessing Sanghyuk sharply. He lingers on his hair and his aura churns, bringing with it a prickle of jealousy.

“Hello, baby vampire.” 

“My name is Sanghyuk.”

“And mine is Taekwoon.”

“You mean it’s not kidnapping asshole?”

“My birth name, I assure you.”

Licking his blunt teeth, Sanghyuk finds himself wanting to eat the smirk off Taekwoon’s face. He misses his fangs.

Taekwoon turns the chair to the desk around and sits facing the bed. The chair is petite and Taekwoon is decidedly not; he has to slump and his legs extend far past what must be comfortable. Good.

Taekwoon folds his hands in his lap. “We’ve gotten off to a terrible start. Can we try again?”

“No.”

“I'm sorry for taking advantage of you. I swear to you I am.”

His demeanor is soft, almost shy. His aura has settled to a deep purple, casting ribbons about him like a maypole. He's being vulnerable, incredibly sincere, and Sanghyuk hates him for it.

“I don't forgive you.”

“I don't blame you in the slightest.” Taekwoon scratches at his scalp. “Why were you so kind to that goblin?”

Sanghyuk glances up, surprised to find his face perfectly serious. “Why were you so cruel?”

Taekwoon crosses his feet at the ankles and talks to them instead of Sanghyuk. “True demons feed off human energy… he positively glutted himself on it. You must know he made a lot of people very miserable.”

Sanghyuk huffs. “That doesn’t mean I have to do the same. I can’t stand to watch someone suffer. No matter who it is.”

A smile creeps across the demon’s face. “I was hoping you’d say something like that.

“I have a younger brother and he’s suffering… he’s dying. I’ve tried everything: spells, hexes, potions. I can’t find a single ingredient that even touches him. But when I saw you there in that apartment--”

“Oh, I get it. You want me to turn him.”

“What? Never. I’d rather see him dead than like you.”

“Wow.”

Taekwoon stands, heading for the wardrobe doors and clicking them shut.

“It’s your blood. I need your blood to experiment, it makes perfect sense that there might be something in immortal blood that may help my research…”

“So you jab me full of drugs and throw me in your dungeon?”

Playing with his earring, Taekwoon refuses to meet his eyes. “I realize my method of arrangement was… unorthodox…”

With Hakyeon’s presence gone, Sanghyuk’s anger has returned, and he channels it now through his arms to shove Taekwoon back onto the desk.

“Unorthodox?”

Taekwoon takes his time returning to his full height, straightening his sweater back onto his shoulder. When he speaks, Sanghyuk catches the rims of his irises fading back from red. “Perhaps I deserved that. But perhaps you should be a little less hands on while hexed inside of my home.”

Knowing a threat when he hears one, Sanghyuk flops back onto the bed.

“I am trying to make you a fair deal.” Taekwoon paces toward the wardrobe and back again. Sanghyuk watches him with venomous curiosity. “Room and board and anything else you will need for one month. Hakyeon will take care of everything as he always does. An allowance of five thousand dollars per week while you stay. You may do anything with your time here… except leave. All I ask of you is to draw your blood whenever I need it.”

“Why can’t I leave?”

“What’s to stop you from taking my money and running?”

“Then why give me an allowance to begin with?”

“Incentive,” Taekwoon squints, “and Hakyeon loves online shopping.”

Sanghyuk crosses his arms. “I want to leave.”

Taekwoon falls into a squat right before the bed and pulls out a sleek, black phone. Shamelessly snooping, Sanghyuk watches him thumb through picture after picture of people smiling, most of which must be in rooms of this gigantic mansion-castle-thing.

“This is my brother,” Taekwoon says, holding the phone up to Sanghyuk. His aura spikes wildly around his arm.

The brother is sitting, chin in his hand, at a black table, its shiny surface reflecting soft light onto his soft features. Brown waves are piled atop his head and his smile is large and gorgeous, paired with cute dimples. His head is tilted toward the camera--toward Taekwoon--with affection.

Swiping to another picture, the same man sits in a canopy bed much like his own. This time his smile is forced, closed-lipped and it doesn't reach his eyes. The dark circles under are a horrendous purple. His much thinner arms hold a book in his lap.

Sanghyuk can't help but stare, comparing the two. There's a twinge in his heart that belongs to him alone.

Taekwoon takes a steadying breath and Sanghyuk feels the tightness of his chest, the drop of his stomach. “That smile was the brightest thing in my world. I don’t get to see it anymore and I would do _anything_ to get it back.” His fingers curl in the sleeve of Sanghyuk’s hoodie. “What do you want, Sanghyuk? What will I have to do?”

“I want to see him.”

Taekwoon’s eyes raise to his and the surprise is stark and real. Sanghyuk pulls his arm back from Taekwoon’s grasp and watches as his hand curls back around the phone. He looks down at the photo of his brother and runs his thumb across the face on the screen. Clicking the button on the side, the screen goes dark and he shifts to return the phone to his back pocket.

Taekwoon stands to his full height, and even though Sanghyuk knows he’s taller than him, while sitting, it still intimidates him. He’s looking down at him intensely, stock-still, as if nothing else in the world matters--the picture kind of takes his breath away.

Sanghyuk blinks away what, surely, is more magic.

“I want to see him.”

“You’d be living with him--”

“No, now. Before I make up my mind. I want to know he’s real, I want to know he’s--” Sanghyuk is the first to break eye contact, looking away from Taekwoon, “--I want to know for myself that he’s worth saving.”

“I thought you said no being should suffer.”

“They shouldn’t, but what you’re asking is for--for parts of me.”

“Fine.”

“And I want this hex taken off. I want my fangs back.”

Taekwoon looks toward the windows, biting at his lip.

“You said you’d do anything,” Sanghyuk says, pushing.

“I suppose it would be cruel,” Taekwoon says, “to keep from you something so central to your identity.”

Surprising, that the demon gets it. Taekwoon runs his hands through his hair, and it falls right back in place over his eyes. The low light casts a glittering halo around the crown of his head. Puffing out his cheeks, he breathes out slowly.

“Neither of those things can be done tonight. Hongbin is asleep and it will take me awhile to gather the ingredients and prepare to reverse your hex. You might as well sleep on your decision anyway. You may wake up and decide it isn’t worth it no matter what.”

Sanghyuk throws himself back on the huge canopied bed, stretching out his arms and legs like a starfish, letting the fluffy down comforter envelop him.

“Spend a night in these horrible conditions? I don’t know if I can manage…”

Taekwoon sighs. “I assume you remember your way to the bathroom. I wouldn’t suggest exploring for your own sake. Hakyeon will be in to fetch you in the morning. Goodnight Sanghyuk.”

As soon as Taekwoon slips through the door, a heaviness settles over the room along with the quietness. It was as if the entire room reacted to his presence in some way, making it feel keen and alive. It felt okay to be here, in this room, with him--it feels exceptionally wrong to be in here alone.

He doesn’t think the door is locked anymore--he did, after all, mention the bathroom. But the comment about exploring has Sanghyuk on edge, remembering being able to count the number of ribs on the succubus, remembering that Taekwoon must have been the one to leave her down there.

Absently, he feels like a child when he throws back the covers and wishes Hakyeon were here to calm his nerves. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to fall asleep like this, his anxiety running wild imagining how many other prisoners may be behind all those locked doors, and why even Hakyeon seemed afraid of the east wing.

He falls asleep with an ache in his chest, knowing that there’s no one at home to miss him, no one to get upset if he does stay away for a month, no one to return to after he leaves.

 

 

~ * ~

 

 

Though he would not admit it, Sanghyuk got the best sleep of his life. The sheets were softer than anything he’d ever felt, the pillows supporting his head and neck perfectly. His sleep was deep and dreamless, but not so deep that he’d felt groggy when he awoke.

When he does awake, it is to a slight wetness pushing against his nose, his lips. Hair snuggling against his chin. Soft whines eventually pull him from his lull and he opens his eyes slowly and without fear to see the shape of a completely black German Shepherd lying next to him on the bed, head neatly settled between its front paws.

Its tail flaps against the blanket to see his eyes open, but it stays still where it lies. The action brings a full smile to Sanghyuk’s face.

“Hey boy,” Sanghyuk whispers, not moving, “how did you get in here?”

The dog lifts its head and opens its mouth in a panting smile, its ears raising fully in a magnificent display of beauty. Sanghyuk fishes his hand out of the covers and lets the creature smell his hand--something he read once before that stuck with him told him that makes animals more comfortable--before smoothing it between the ears and scratching under its chin.

“I see you’ve met Larkspur,” Hakyeon says, standing in the doorway with a smile. He’s holding a silver tray with a couple of bowls, one steaming, and Sanghyuk wonders briefly if Hakyeon forgot that he eats blood before he comes to set the tray on the bedside table. Instead, it’s simply a bowl of hot water and a towel. 

“How did he get in?”

“I asked her to come and wake you.”

“Oh. She can um… talk?”

“She can understand. Down.” Hakyeon snaps his fingers and the dog jumps off the bed, walking to the door and turning to sit facing them.

Hakyeon replaces where Larkspur was sitting and grabs the hot towel. “Sit up, darling.”

Sanghyuk does so mindlessly. He lets Hakyeon pat the towel over his face and neck and shoulders, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

“Technically she’s Taekwoon’s familiar, but really she’s a family dog. Only she likes Jaehwan best. I think it’s all the energy.”

Larkspur barks and it makes Sanghyuk jump, such a sharp contrast to the slow tones of Hakyeon’s voice. Hakyeon laughs.

“What are you doing?” Sanghyuk asks.

Hakyeon hums. “Taekwoon will want you soon to meet with Hongbin,” he refills the towel and squeezes it, before placing it on Sanghyuk’s neck, “and I didn’t know how else to wake you without breakfast. It seemed rude to come in without something. This is nice, isn’t it?”

Sanghyuk tries to bite back his laughter but he fails. And he keeps laughing, until Hakyeon looks confused, and then embarrassed, and then very uncomfortable. He pulls the towel off Sanghyuk’s neck with one hand and replaces it on the tray.

“No, no it isn’t--” Sanghyuk starts, “It’s just cute. You’re so invested in taking care of me. Maybe I should be offended, but it’s--nice.”

Hakyeon is still blushing when he turns away, stands to remove the tray.

“Don’t leave, I’m sorry.” Sanghyuk reaches his hand across the dark green blanket that’s still keeping him decent and makes a grabbing motion. When Hakyeon looks back at him, he’s wearing what his maker would call his devil’s grin--but he’s sure it has more effect with his fangs. “Lay my clothes out for me? Please?”

Setting the tray back down, Hakyeon runs his hands along the front of his pretty black ruffled shirt, for no reason other than the fact, Sanghyuk is sure, that he’s flustered.

“Well,” he says with a big puff of air, fighting a smile, “if you insist.”

He opens both of the wardrobe doors with a flourish, placing the necessities onto the bed first, then standing with his hands on his hips.

“What do you feel like wearing?”

Sanghyuk snuggles back down into the bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. “You choose.”

Hakyeon squints, then hums at him suspiciously. Turning back, he decides on simple black jeans and a matching red and black flannel, laying them out on the bed, smoothing them to make sure there’s no wrinkles.

“Don’t make Taekwoon wait for you, he’s not a patient man.”

“He’s a demon,” Sanghyuk throws out, covering his face with all his blankets and groaning.

Hakyeon leaves, gathering his tray and calling Larkspur out the door with him. The dog follows with one last look at the bed, wagging his tail. Once the room is quiet again, Sanghyuk sighs and sits up, wishing the full sunlight was coming in through the windows. He hopes he can talk Hakyeon into taking the shielding off--

If he stays. _If he stays._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone: h-  
> me: hakyeon! taking! care! of! sanghyuk!


	3. Cinnamon and Cloves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanghyuk meets Hongbin; Taekwoon removes Sanghyuk's hex; and Sanghyuk's bloodlust gets the best of him

Standing outside of bedroom four, Taekwoon opens and closes his fists. He can hear the vampire shuffling around inside. This has to work. He doesn't have the time or the resources to lure another vampire into his trap. Hongbin must make such an impression on him that he willingly stays. Taekwoon's resolve has faltered; he knows he can't keep someone here against their will. Besides, the vampire is also a witch. It's too perfect to pass up.

Reaching for the doorknob, Taekwoon hesitates and pulls his hand back again. His memory supplies Sanghyuk's harsh stare, boring into him as if he can see his every thought, his every mood. Vampires should only be able to hear his heartbeat, and yet this one looks at him as if he knows every terrible thing he's ever done.

Hongbin. His guilt twists deep inside his gut.

The door swings open, producing a suspiciously smiley Sanghyuk, who looks him up and down before defaulting back to a glare.

He wishes Hakyeon were here. Hakyeon, who had described him as a puppy. Hakyeon, who is always so easy with others, who always knows what to say. What would Hakyeon say?

“Good morning,” Taekwoon says. “How did you sleep?”

“Better than in the dungeon.”

“Yes. Well.” What does he say to that? “Hongbin is waiting.”

Hongbin’s room is across the hall from Sanghyuk’s, bearing the number III. It’s always been such a cozy room to Taekwoon, a place where he often spends his nights if he isn’t in his lab. Last night Hongbin had been argumentative, even more so than usual. He refused to rest, instead pacing the length of his room as he berated Taekwoon. Hongbin--he has given up. Somewhere along the way he made his peace with death. It’s almost as if he wants it. What he doesn’t want, clearly, is to owe anything to anyone. Especially not a stranger. Wearing himself out early, he’d fallen asleep looking frail and pale, the bones in his face becoming ever more pronounced as time goes on.

Taekwoon doesn’t understand. As long as it keeps him alive, no price is too much.

Taekwoon adjusts his shirt before knocking, three quick and two slow, always the signal to his brother that it’s him behind the door. Hongbin invites them in, and holding the door open for Sanghyuk to pass through first, he enters and closes the door behind him so as not to let the heat from the fireplace out.

He watches Sanghyuk’s face as he assesses the room. Lit only by the fireplace and a few candles due to Hongbin’s headaches, the room is still bright with soft light. The air is heavy with the scent of cloves and Sanghyuk dips his head, covering his face with the back of his hand. Taekwoon warns Hongbin against using too much of the magical incense, worried for his lungs--but then it helps relieve his pain, and so the demon accedes most of the time.

His brother is still in bed, though he has dressed himself. Even his hair is done, and he wears a devious smile and amusement in his eyes that makes Taekwoon’s stomach drop at once. Hongbin wouldn’t do anything stupid, would he? He’s aware how important this first impression is.

“Good morning,” Hongbin says, hands at his collar, smoothing it out.

His bed is made neatly around him, brilliant shades of purple and gold. One of Taekwoon’s books lies to the side, left open with a gold chain of a bookmark laid across the middle. In a couple short strides Taekwoon is beside him, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking his hand. “How are you feeling?”

Snatching his hand away, Hongbin frowns. “Don’t fuss over me in front of company.”

Frowning as well, Taekwoon stands and leans against Hongbin’s nightstand, careful to avoid his precious camera. Sanghyuk looks laughably uncomfortable--eyes watering, stance awkward, not knowing what to do with his long limbs.

“Fine. This is our newest guest, Sanghyuk. Sanghyuk, this is Hongbin, my brother.”

They exchange hands and bows, and all the while Hongbin is wearing a grin that puts Taekwoon on edge. When Sanghyuk tries to pull away from the handshake, Hongbin holds on for a second too long, never breaking eye contact, licking his lips slowly.

Once he’s free, Sanghyuk stumbles back and looks at his hand as if it’s betrayed him.

“It’s nice to meet you Sanghyuk. Are you really a vampire?”

“Oh, uh,” Sanghyuk rubs his shoulder, looking flushed under Hongbin’s stare, “yeah.”

There’s a weighted silence, heavy and potent as the cloves. Hongbin and Sanghyuk are still staring at each other, and Taekwoon hopes Sanghyuk can see what he sees--sickness, death, a suffering decent soul, much more deserving of mercy than the wretched goblin in that filthy apartment.

Hongbin clears his throat. “Will you drink from us?”

“No,” Taekwoon snaps, a reprimand he’s used to giving.

Sanghyuk looks back and forth between them, brows furrowed.

“I wasn’t asking you.” Hongbin turns his head defiantly away from his brother, angling it just so to show off his neck and strong jawline. He looks at the vampire sweetly with his smile, waiting for an answer. 

Taekwoon’s fingernails dig into his palms.

Sanghyuk chuckles. “I mean… it would be so much nicer than blood packs.”

“The only one who will be drawing blood is me,” Taekwoon says.

So, here it is. Hongbin’s defiance and ever-present death wish: tempting a god damn vampire. He watches as Hongbin trails his forefinger back and forth across his dreadfully pronounced collarbone. Jesus, he is such a pain in the ass. Taekwoon will chain himself to his brother before he sees a drop of his blood spilled, especially by Sanghyuk.

“So,” Sanghyuk says to Hongbin, wearing a knowing smile. “My blood could possibly cure you.”

“Yes,” Taekwoon adds quickly. “I’ve already started writing a few potions and spells. I have a lot more research to do, but the base should always be the same, your blood being the stabi--”

“Please stay and help me, Sanghyuk,” Hongbin interrupts. “We can make it worth your while.” He glances sidelong at Taekwoon.

Taekwoon closes his eyes and breathes through his nose. When he opens them again, Sanghyuk is biting his lip to keep from laughing.

“I’m sure I’ll find… many different ways to occupy my time.”

“I forbid you to touch him,” Taekwoon says, knowing it lacks the force it should have.

“Oooh,” Hongbin coos, “I’ve always wanted to be forbidden fruit.”

“There are plenty of blood packs in the kitchen. I won’t have you sacrificing his health.”

Hongbin and Sanghyuk share a devious look.

“I would never,” Sanghyuk says, affecting dramatically with his hand on his chest.

“We’re leaving,” Taekwoon says, knocking shoulders with Sanghyuk on his way to the door. “There’s something else we must do. If you’ve decided to stay, that is.”

Sanghyuk rubs his chin. “I think I’ve found something worth my time.”

Taekwoon bites his tongue, imploring himself not to rise to the bait. He is getting what he wants, after all.

Hongbin sits primly on the bed, looking back and forth between them, wearing that same wolfish grin like he knows something they don’t. It makes Taekwoon uneasy and yet at the same time, draws him in. It’s so nice to see him smile.

Sanghyuk nods his head to Hongbin again. “It was nice meeting you.”

“You too.”

 

~ * ~

 

They exit back into the extravagance of the hallway, and Taekwoon takes a deep breath, like the room was just as suffocating for him as it was for Sanghyuk. He pulls on his earring then shakes his head, like he’s gathering the strength to go on.

Sanghyuk rolls on the balls of his feet, following the great beams across the ceiling with his eyes, not sure what to do with his hands. He liked Hongbin. He loved getting under Taekwoon's skin.

Taekwoon abruptly crosses the hall, looking sufficiently like an animated scarecrow.

“What was that all about?” Sanghyuk asks. “I felt an awful lot like a chess piece.”

“My brother is difficult.” Taekwoon pushes the hair out of his face. “You’re a lot alike.”

Sanghyuk sees again those beautiful brown eyes, devouring him in the most mocking of ways. No. He doesn't think he and Hongbin are anything alike.

“So where are we going?” Sanghyuk feels a little less scared of the rooms behind the doors now, knowing that if behind one was a harmless bedroom much like his, there probably aren’t many flesh eating monsters behind the rest. Probably. “A secret passage? Do you have a hidden laboratory?”

Taekwoon opens another sharply lacquered door, then gestures a hand inside, an unimpressed look on his face. “The library. To undo your hex.”

Sanghyuk steps into the room and is struck by what he sees. The grand library is dressed in mahogany, carved beautifully to display clawed feet and gothic patterns. Hundreds of books line the walls from floor to ceiling and two rickety wooden ladders stand in the corners to retrieve them. All the furniture has also been pushed to the sides except for one small table in the middle of the room; a russet rug covers the space, showing indents where the things had previously been placed, making it look even more bare.

Hakyeon is already in the room, arranging things on the desk in perfect rows. He looks up and smiles when they enter, but he looks troubled, and Sanghyuk’s good mood evaporates just like that.

Taekwoon goes to him at once, placing his hands on his shoulders and speaking to him hushed so that Sanghyuk can’t hear. Hakyeon nods, but he looks more nervous than ever. Taekwoon doesn’t look upset but he looks--constipated, which is more of an emotion than Sanghyuk has ever seen on his face unless it pertains to his brother. His hands begin to shake at the two of them together.

“Wait,” he says, “is this dangerous?”

Taekwoon pulls Hakyeon to the side by his shoulders. “Spellcraft is always dangerous.”

Hakyeon glares at him sideways. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, it’s quite a simple spell, just a hex reversed.”

“It’s like threading a needle,” Taekwoon says. “It can be easy or you can unravel the entire spool.”

Sanghyuk gapes at him, imagining his lifeforce unraveling like a ball of yarn, pulled by Taekwoon from his body and stitched into all sorts of horrific constructions.

“Taekwoon.” Hakyeon crosses his arms.

“What? It’s the truth.”

“The chance of that happening is so incredibly small, Sanghyuk,” Hakyeon turns back to him and gives him a warm smile, and it feels like magic itself, how it loosens the tightness of his shoulders. “Taekwoon is a skittish pessimist.”

“I’m a realist,” Taekwoon says, flipping the page in the book he’s stooped over.

He looks between the two of them, and a strange feeling settles in his stomach. They’re so easy with each other, so comfortable both in speech and in silence, he wonders how long they have been like this. He feels like an intruder, an outsider, unwanted and unneeded, just like he was before, just like he will be once he returns home. This feels wrong, so wrong; he places his hand on his throat and shakes his head.

“Sanghyuk.” Hakyeon’s voice is firm and commanding. “You’re not in any danger. You don’t have to do this.”

He nibbles some loose skin on his lip. “No. It’s not that. I need to do this. I can’t be without part of myself for a month.”

Hakyeon slinks around Taekwoon and stands before him, capturing his hands and squeezing them. Sanghyuk doesn’t realize he’s gone cold until the warmth of Hakyeon’s hands shoots through his arms like a rocket. He licks his teeth. Veins protrude and shift across Hakyeon’s forearms as he rubs Sanghyuk’s cold hands between his own. Sanghyuk is hungry, and Hakyeon smells amazing--like sun and sand and the cinnamon dust on his fingers.

Taekwoon continues to flip through his book and scrawl notes on papers, paying no attention to either of them.

“Hakyeon, I need the white rose petals. Oh, and the rosemary, too.”

Sanghyuk blinks through the bloodlust as Hakyeon drops his hands and walks away. The room returns around him--the books, the mini desk, the candle holder--and then Taekwoon’s intense eyes, staring him down like he knows. Sanghyuk licks his lips.

“I want to do something,” Sanghyuk whines, feeling useless.

Taekwoon waves his hand distractedly in the air. “Stand there and look pretty.”

Pretty. Sanghyuk breathes discontent through his nose.

“I’ll need him shirtless for this, Hakyeon.”

A stab of loneliness. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”

Taekwoon sighs, and it’s rather dramatic given the circumstances. “Fine. Take off your shirt.”

Sanghyuk pulls the flannel over his head, ruffling his hair as he does. Hakyeon takes his shirt from him and as it disappears from his view, Sanghyuk sees the demon inspecting him. Mouth dry, Sanghyuk feels too exposed and crosses his arms over his stomach to attempt to cover himself--but he’s big, bigger than both of them, and there’s nowhere to hide. Taekwoon doesn’t disguise his inspection in the slightest; he stares until Hakyeon breaks the silence asking if he needs salt. Yes, of course. The salt. He turns away to the standing candleabrum behind him.

The demon takes turns on each white candle, carving into them all the way around with a needle. Sanghyuk wants to ask what he’s writing, but he’s afraid of Taekwoon’s fiery eyes--afraid of how much he liked and disliked them. Besides, he doesn’t think he should distract him, given all that he has to lose.

Taekwoon heaves a big sigh. “Alright. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“I’ll be just outside,” Hakyeon says from behind them, and as he exits the lights turn out.

Sanghyuk wants him to stay but knows why he can’t, and doesn’t really want to argue with the person that is about to hold the threads of his sanity in the palm of his hand.

Taekwoon lights the three candles, whispering something sweet to them. They cast long, sinister shadows over the chairs, the tables, the walls. The flames jump and sway as if there’s a breeze--energy is being drawn from somewhere, Sanghyuk can feel it compressing and trembling in an expanse around the two of them. Sweat begins to trickle along the edge of his hairline.

Grabbing the charcoal from the desk, Taekwoon stands in front of him. For the first time since they’ve been stuck together, they are face-to-face, and for the first time ever, it feels like they are equals. Looking into his eyes, Sanghyuk searches for something, perhaps imperceptible. Taekwoon’s eyes are always sharp, but right now they are intense and bare. He smells like demon, like the embers of a fire and the faintest trace of the sweetest, darkest of cherries. Sanghyuk licks his teeth, yearning for his fangs. He’s hungry.

The magic around the room is heavy, so heavy.

“You can’t stop once I start,” Taekwoon says. “Our energies will be entwined and I don’t know how a sudden end would affect you. Are you ready?”

Sanghyuk swallows. “Yes.”

His spidery fingers draw a line of charcoal straight down the middle of Sanghyuk’s chest, from collarbone to belly button. Then a five-pointed star over his heart. He shivers with the cold he shouldn’t be feeling.

“Orange and sandalwood.” Taekwoon doesn’t look up while he says it and it sounds almost like an accusation.

Sanghyuk watches the waver of his eyelashes. “Hakyeon picked it.”

“Ah. He has his manipulations.”

The five-pointed star becomes a pentagram. He sets the charcoal down to inspect his work, rubbing his thumb along the the lines of the star to perfect it. He cracks his wrist, then hovers his palm over the pentagram.

“Do you feel it?” he asks.

It takes a moment. Sanghyuk realizes first that the candlelight has calmed, no longer jumping as it once did. Then he feels the warmth from Taekwoon’s hand seeping into his breast. Slowly the pressure builds, like a current between them, like static from a balloon, like a blanket hot from the dryer. He shivers again and nods, not trusting himself to speak.

“Good.”

Turning back to the desk, Taekwoon dissolves the salt into a small bowl of water and reads through more of his notes, which might actually be in a different language as far as Sanghyuk can read of it. He wouldn’t be surprised if it were some sort of demon thing.

“Can you--” Sanghyuk stops. _You’re a lot alike._ “Nevermind.”

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing.”

He looks unconvinced as he dips his fingertips into the bowl and flicks water all around them, and finally, onto Sanghyuk’s chest. He makes a disgusted face.

“Tell me.”

Sanghyuk takes a deep breath. “Can you explain what you’re doing while you’re doing it? I don’t do--hexes.”

Taekwoon sets the bowl softly back down. “You’re scared.”

Sanghyuk looks past him, toward the darkened corner of leather bound books and leather chairs. He’s a lot of things right now, not the least of them is scared. Something about this room is off, something about being here alone with the demon is bleeding his judgment from his bones, and his veins are beginning to ache. Yes. He’s scared.

“Is that what you need to hear?”

“No.” Taekwoon starts grinding the mortar and pestle, and the smooth clink of it relaxes him, if only a little. “I’m grinding the rose, rosemary, and cinnamon and you’re going to eat it.”

“I can’t eat food anymore.”

“No,” he taps the pestle against the side repeatedly. “You don’t _need_ to eat food anymore.”

Sanghyuk squints at him. He doesn't need to be condescended to about his own physiology. Interesting, though, that he knows this, when there's so many falsehoods out there. What else does he know about vampires? About Sanghyuk? Does he know about the hunger; can he tell?

“Did you hear me?”

“What?”

“Open your mouth.”

The demon presents him with a lump of brownish-grey colored goop, lumped at the end of a spoon.

Sanghyuk smirks. “I would have thought hexing was much more sinister than spoon feeding someone m--”

Taekwoon shoves the spoon into his mouth. “You talk entirely too much.”

“You could let me go,” Sanghyuk says, clumsily chewing the sprigs of rosemary. His jaw and cheekbones protest at the unfamiliar motions.

Shrugging with one shoulder, Taekwoon turns back to his book, and Sanghyuk can’t shake the feeling that there’s something oddly familiar about the image. He flips a few pages. He’s chewing the inside of his cheek, and Sanghyuk can see the candlelit droops in his aura, feels the prickles of anxiety in his gut. He retrieves the charcoal again and draws onto his left palm. It’s awkward; Sanghyuk realizes that he’s left-handed.

“I’m drawing a pentagram on my hand to direct my power during the spell.”

Sanghyuk shifts on his feet. Knowing what Taekwoon is doing, it seems, is not making him any more comfortable. The familiarity dawns on him--just now the demon resembles his maker: back-lit and face obscured, long wisps of hair falling into his face, hunched over a book.

Taekwoon straightens and the image is gone. “I need you to stand before the candles.”

Once he’s in place, Sanghyuk looks down into the candlelight. It seems brighter and whiter than it should be. Taekwoon steps behind him, close enough to cover his back in delicious body heat. Blood.

“I am going to place my left hand over your heart, then I will draw your hand through the flames. I will speak the spell and we will be done. Are you ready?”

No. “Yes.”

His arm snakes past Sanghyuk's side and splays it over his heart, slotting both pentagrams in line. The static ramps higher, shocking his chest and making him jump. Taekwoon grabs his shoulder to steady him. A blue glow draws his attention down--the pentagram on the demon's palm is glowing electric blue, while the one on his chest gives off a subtle white light.

“Give me your hand.” His voice, always soft, is now a whisper as well, against the back of Sanghyuk's neck.

Taking the offered hand, Taekwoon entwines their fingers and forces Sanghyuk's palm to thrust outward, guiding it forward toward the candles.

“My will come undone.”

He draws Sanghyuk's hand through each candle brutally slow. The pain is there but it doesn't leave a mark; he refuses to flinch or make a sound, simply gritting his teeth and taking it. As his hand passes the last candle all three are extinguished, but not by any force he can see.

When the demon steps back from him, he misses the heat desperately.

“It’s done. You are yourself again.”

Throwing his head back, Sanghyuk licks his teeth and at last feels them lengthen and sharpen under the attention. He hums happily, giving Taekwoon his best playful smile. Taekwoon merely tucks his chin into his chest. His head is on a swivel when Sanghyuk flits around the room, into and out of the shadows. Stopping right before the desk, he leans into the demon's space and bares his claws, hissing. Then, he collapses on the desk, laughing.

He feels lightheaded with the freedom, the hunger.

“Yes. Hilarious.” He raises his voice. “Hakyeon!”

Hakyeon comes back into the room, turning on the lights, all smiles. He falters only slightly when he notices Sanghyuk on the desk, grinning, and Taekwoon's exasperated stance. “How do you feel, Sanghyuk?”

“Better.”

“Take him away,” says Taekwoon, short and gruff.

“Wait,” says Sanghyuk, standing from the desk. He shakes off a loose piece of paper stuck to his hand. “I need something. It’s--it’s important.”

Taekwoon gathers his papers and shuts the book, looking only at Hakyeon when he speaks. “Whatever you need, Hakyeon will take care of it. I’m leaving. Hakyeon?”

Hakyeon stands with his hands clasped before him, nodding to the demon and watching him brusquely exit the library.

“You let your boyfriend talk to you like that?” Sanghyuk asks.

“He’s not my boyfriend, Sanghyuk,” Hakyeon smiles, “and if you don’t stop prying I’ll start to think you’re interested.”

“Husband then.”

Hakyeon laughs. “This month is going to be so interesting.” He motions toward the corner with the leather chairs. “Sit down, so I can get the charcoal off you.”

Hakyeon kneels between his knees. It’s the second time today that Hakyeon has towel bathed him, and while he enjoyed it this morning, now the dampness of his chest only serves to highlight how biting cold he is. His fangs ache and he can hear the faint, steady beating of Hakyeon’s heart. He’s scrubbing the pentagram, and his wrist is so, so close…

Snatching his arm, Sanghyuk brings Hakyeon’s wrist to his mouth. The towel is dropped into his lap, forgotten. Hakyeon’s pulse is racing as Sanghyuk’s fangs simply lie across the delicate skin, pressing down, indenting but not cutting.

“When I said I needed something,” Sanghyuk says, trailing off. His claws slip out slowly.

Hakyeon’s huge, doe eyes haven’t left the fangs on his wrist. His aura slashes around him like so many silver swords. Sanghyuk feels the fear stuck in the base of Hakyeon’s throat, keeping him from speaking.

He licks Hakyeon’s wrist between his teeth. “I need blood.”

Hakyeon shakes his head, pulls weakly for his arm’s freedom to no success. “Taekwoon has already procured you blood packs. When we’re done we can go downstairs and--”

“Cold blood?” Sanghyuk snarls. “Absolutely not. Would you stand for eating dirt?”

“Don’t be dramatic.” He pulls again. “Surely it’s not that bad.”

“It’s worse.”

Hakyeon stops pulling and looks him in the eyes. “Those stereotypes about vampires…” he bites his lip softly and looks down at his wrist, “does it feel good?”

Sanghyuk nips him on the hard heel of his palm. “It can if you let it.”

“Let go of me.” The tone is so commanding, Sanghyuk doesn't even think before he uncurls his fingers and laments watching Hakyeon snatch his arm back and walk away.

His flannel flies across the room and lands on his face. “Put your shirt on.”

He fucked up. The bloodlust got him in trouble, just like it always does, seducing him down the road of sins and faux pas. He shakes his head, buttoning himself up. Hakyeon isn't going to trust him anymore, and he won't have a single friend in this awful place--

A weight joins him on the waxy leather, a knee beside his thigh, and then another. Above him, Hakyeon is unbuttoning his own shirt down to his sternum. He pushes the pinstriped silk down and off his shoulder like an offering.

Sanghyuk aborts the instinct to pounce. The sight is breathtaking; any vampire would be weak for that long elegant neck craned slightly to the side, just for them. But does Hakyeon know what he's getting into?

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I will see some of your memories…”

Strong fingers grip his shoulder, and Hakyeon bends down to look him in the eye. “Don't take too much.”

Scrambling to his full height, Sanghyuk grabs Hakyeon by hip and neck and pulls him in. An endless display of flawless golden skin is laid out before him; he watches the contrasts in their skin tones over Hakyeon's shoulder as he glides his hand up and to his shoulder blade. Fighting the killing instinct, the animal-like temptation to fill his jaws with flesh, Sanghyuk pierces the side of Hakyeon's neck slowly, softly, sitting up straighter and thumbing his jaw when he cries out. 

He lets the blood roll over his teeth, around his tongue, savoring the unique flavor of siren. Hakyeon is mild and sweet, nothing like Sanghyuk expected. He mouths at the wound, smearing blood across his chin and cheeks, stalling from the intimacy of the pull.

It doesn't last long. Threading his fingers through the hair at the base of Hakyeon's skull, Sanghyuk positions his lips properly over the holes, takes a deep breath through his nose, and begins to suck. 

Hakyeon jolts and groans, a noise Sanghyuk is used to hearing, but Hakyeon's is deep and slow and _oh_ does he want to hear him make it again. His smell is everywhere, salt and brine, and he's making Sanghyuk dizzy with a fist in his hair and a succession of breathy whines when the memories take him. 

The sound of the sea hits him like he's never heard it: deep and resonant, evocative of how big it truly is. Low tones dance around him as if coming from everywhere at once. He feels, more than sees, the brilliance of so many kinds of life for miles and miles. The water feels keenly of home, in a way Sanghyuk himself has never felt.

And then he's in a warm bed, canopies loose. Moonlight shines through their transparency, highlighting the sweat on Taekwoon's body as he moves above him. His hand--Hakyeon's hand--runs up the curve of the demon's soft stomach. “Kitten,” he whispers to him, thumbnail running over his hip bone, and those red eyes open only a little, begging silently. 

Blood. Human blood. He loves the contrast it makes against the coal gray rocks, and wishes the tide weren't so high as to wash it away. The blood in his mouth doesn't taste good per se, but it tastes like dominance, and he stares at the man's body, broken bones protruding like driftwood at his feet.

Sanghyuk pulls off with a deep gasp and holds Hakyeon at arms length, waiting for the bloodlust to pass. Hakyeon stares at him as he stares at the wound, a stream of blood running down his chest and out of sight. He runs his tongue along a fang, slicing the tip; bending back down, he allows their blood to mingle over the broken flesh until it mends back together.

Before he can lick up the mess, Hakyeon has him softly by the jaw in both hands, bringing him level to search his eyes.

“Did you see everything I saw?” he asks, and Sanghyuk doesn't need to feel his fear--he can see it in his eyes.

Sanghyuk follows the trail of blood along the curve of his breast, where it disappears beneath his shirt, and back up. He wants it before it dries--it's no good after it dries.

Instead, he arches a brow. “That depends on what you saw.”

Hakyeon rolls his neck, curling his fingers through the remaining blood. He tastes the smallest drop on the tip of his tongue and Sanghyuk's stomach swoops. Bloody fingers inch toward his own lips, and now his own heart, pumping with Hakyeon's blood, is racing.

Just as fingers touch his lips and Sanghyuk leans in for more, Hakyeon pulls his arm back. “I don't suffer brats. Tell me what you saw.”

Sanghyuk growls, but every part of him is interested in playing this game. His fingers curve up Hakyeon's thighs and over his hips to grab his ass and haul him closer. 

“I saw you and your ‘kitten.’”

“I wouldn't suggest telling Taekwoon unless you want to die. What else?”

Sanghyuk stares at him dumbly. He was so sure that was what Hakyeon was afraid of--he didn't see anything else worth mentioning. Unless--

“I saw…” he watches as Hakyeon's adam's apple bobs, “I saw a kill.”

Hakyeon deflates, trying to slither from Sanghyuk's arms, but Sanghyuk fights him--bigger and so very much faster--Hakyeon only ends up disheveled atop his lap, kept in place by waist and wrist. 

“That isn't me,” Hakyeon says, silver aura swooping in panic. “I don't--I'm not like that anymore.”

“Hakyeon…”

“I was young… I--I was feral and--”

“I'm a vampire, you don't need to explain bloodlust to me.”

His eyes are wild, bouncing between Sanghyuk and the walls around them. Chest heaving, Hakyeon whines and tries again to pull away, but the attempt is half hearted.

“That's different.” Hakyeon shakes his head like he's trying to forget. “You're different.”

“Am I?”

“Let go of me.”

Sanghyuk does. The siren jumps from his lap and backs up into Taekwoon's desk, buttoning himself into modesty. His composure collects from toe to head like the finest of demon veneers; one moment he looks like a lost lamb headed to slaughter; the next he is an untouchable statue of refinement and poise.

“You should head to your room and get yourself cleaned up, rest a bit after such draining spellwork. Tonight you will be meeting everyone at dinner.”

Hakyeon walks smoothly to the door, back to Sanghyuk and head high like they hadn't just experienced something deeply personal, trascendal--irrevocable.

“Did I not just have my dinner?” Sanghyuk tries, but Hakyeon smoothly retreats, leaving the door ajar.

 

~ * ~

 

Sanghyuk doesn't sleep. He washes the blood from his face and examines his fangs blankly in the elaborate bathroom mirror, feeling the phantom sugar taste of Hakyeon on his tongue.

Sitting ashamed on what is now his own plush bed, Sanghyuk ruminates over the morning, how unreal and terrible it feels. Now, alone and clear-headed, thirst sated and calm, he would give anything to undo what he's done.

He barely knows Hakyeon, and now he's been inside of his body and his mind, and although he had permission for both he can't help but feel like it was wholly unnecessary; that remnants of magic somehow played a part in the agreement and he, with his hunger amplified, only took advantage of it. He should have taken the blood packs he was offered.

He's always been greedy. Always needed too much, always thought of himself before others. And like that the room is stripped away, and he's in his maker's living room the night he was given the blood. Thinking back, the aura is romantic--the lights are low, there's a fire burning in the mantle. He's had one too many glasses of whatever it is that made him feel that dreamy and disconnected.

Its the same fight they always have. He isn't ready. He's so young; barely 25 and still running head first into good and bad experiences alike. The blood will be there for him always, there is no rush, no reason to miss out on the prime of his life. He can have the best of both worlds--continue to be a feeder and his maker will groom him to be a vampire when the time comes.

But that isn't what Sanghyuk wants. He wants the blood and he wants it now, wants the power and the seduction, wants to know how it feels when his maker takes him in his arms, what it is that makes him groan so gutturally simply at the sight of his throat. He threatens to leave. To expose him. But ultimately, like the petulant child he is, Sanghyuk makes the decision for his maker.

Sanghyuk scrubs his face with his hands, trying to rub out the memory of the horror on the vampire's face.

Wandering the room, Sanghyuk finds that the UV window protection is merely sheets of black stickers, and so he sets his mind to peeling each of them from between the panels in the early afternoon. Sunlight glints off the gold on the walls and the matching filigree on the furniture, brightening the room along with his mood. It hits the crystalline and sends shards of light across the pine wood flooring and reminds Sanghyuk of being a child, in a room with his mother while she giggled and held him close.

When the sun is low and the crystalline reflections have gone from a clear prism to a golden hue, a series of knocks comes from Sanghyuk's door. Three sets of three, odd to be sure, but he's in such a hurry to apologize to Hakyeon that he can't fathom finding anyone else. He swings the door open in a rush, the old wood under the new lacquer groaning and an audible wind kicking up.

“Hak--you're not Hakyeon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will _try_ for weekly updates from now on, but school is a pain :<


	4. Lemon and Basil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanghyuk survives dinner; Taekwoon gives Sanghyuk a present

“Hak--you're not Hakyeon.”

A shock of blonde hair greets him above sparkling eyes. The grin he’s receiving is childish, if not completely endearing in it’s lopsided glory. The man’s pointed ears wiggle and then his visage is replaced with Hakyeon. A perfect duplicate from head to toe, right down to the wave in his shiny black hair, but altogether lacking the velvety presence that comes with him.

“I can be if you want.” His laugh is loud, and it echoes off the surfaces of the hallway.

“Uh… no, that's okay.”

The man fades back to himself. His sea green aura shimmers around him as he leans in for a hug, surprisingly tight around Sanghyuk’s broad shoulders. He smells like the fae. Sanghyuk has never come in contact with a fae that wasn’t trying to steal his wallet or his identity or something as annoying and underhanded. The fae are good at magic, and they don’t care how or who they use it on. When the man pulls away, he wears the same smile, but Sanghyuk is frowning at him.

“It's nice to meet you Sanghyuk.” He claps Sanghyuk on the back, apparently oblivious to his mood. “I'm Jaehwan, and I'll be your favorite.”

Imagining the weight of Hakyeon in his lap, the sounds he made as he drew from him, Sanghyuk can't help but exhale a harsh laugh.

“That's better,” Jaehwan says, nodding. “I've never met a vampire that didn't love to brood but I won't stand for it. We already have one Taekwoon, that's enough.”

Locking their arms together, Jaehwan yanks him from the safety of his room. The door is left wide open, but he supposes it doesn’t matter; it’s only a room like all the rest. It isn’t really his. It’s Guest Bedroom number IV, and it should stay that way.

Jaehwan the fae is a strange creature. He’s large by human standards, but he’s wearing clothing that’s far too big for him, long sleeves that flap around as he motions with his words. The fae talks--a lot. About dining and cooking and eating customs, and some sort of fiasco Hakyeon once had with a pheasant, and while Sanghyuk must admit that he is enjoying the lilt of his voice, he's too distracted to pay attention to much of what he says as they make their way downstairs. He hasn't seen Taekwoon since the dizzying magic in the library. He hasn't seen Hakyeon since he ran from him. He hasn't seen Hongbin since he--well, Sanghyuk is glad he isn't hungry anymore.

Social dinners have never been his strength, and now that he doesn’t eat, they’re that much less enjoyable. He doesn’t know who or what to expect, and his anxiety has his heart beating Hakyeon’s blood away faster than he’d like.

“And how old are you?” Jaehwan asks, clearly referring to something he'd been saying.

“Um, I'm 53.”

“Oh, a baby!” Jaehwan says. 

The revelation makes the fae happier than it should. Sanghyuk is getting real tired of hearing that.

Jaehwan's voice gets quiet for the first time, and he lowers his head conspiratorially. “Hakyeon's the oldest you know. He won't even tell us his age.”

Blood on seaside cliffs.

“And uh, how old is the next person?”

“That would be Wonshik.” The bright smile returns to Jaehwan's face. “But I think he stopped counting at 300. Makes sense though right? I mean, aside from having birthdays which are completely essential, what does it matter after a certain point?”

“Is he a siren, too?”

This pulls a high, ringing laugh from Jaehwan. “Oh my gods, he couldn't seduce an incubus. No, he's a phoenix. The blue kind, though. If you believe Taekwoon's books those are the oldest and meanest kind. He's not mean though. He's extra warm for cuddles, you'll see.”

Sanghyuk doesn't want to cuddle an ancient phoenix. He gets the feeling Jaehwan cuddles you whether you like it or not, though. The fae hasn’t stopped touching him, now that he thinks about it, which may or may not be a fae thing. One can never tell when they’re hugging you because they want to lift your keys. 

Grasping his hands, Jaehwan walks backward through a door, pulling Sanghyuk after him. This room is the dining room.

The room is cast in shades of blue and orange, dimly lit by candles and a large fireplace, which makes the air smell faintly of smoked apples. The large dining table’s black reflective surface is familiar--it’s from the picture Taekwoon has of Hongbin in his phone. 

Larkspur is laid primly in the glow of the fire and wags her tail upon seeing them enter. Six places are set at the table, all glass dining ware that glitters in the candle light. It feels closed in, and intimate, and exactly what Sanghyuk was afraid of. Three people at the table, previously engaged in conversation--Taekwoon, Hongbin, and someone new--look to the doorway.

“I've fetched our special guest,” says Jaehwan. “Say good evening Sanghyukkie.”

Sanghyuk flinches, running his hand through his hair. “Uh, hey.”

Running his fingers along his neck, Hongbin gives Sanghyuk another pointed grin; it lasts only a few seconds before Taekwoon snatches Hongbin’s wrist and returns it to the blanket in his lap. Whatever Taekwoon says next, low and private, has Hongbin hiding a laugh behind his goblet of water.

It's the stranger that gives him the respect of an answer.

He lifts himself from the table and comes to stand before Sanghyuk and Jaehwan. Slick black hair curves into his eyes, highlighted with silver. Thin but far too imposing, he fills out his three-piece suit as if it were made for him. It probably was. His presence, his nearness, makes Sanghyuk uncomfortable in an authoritative way; like the time in eighth grade when he went to the principal’s office for fighting with another boy. 

The man takes one of Sanghyuk's hands in both of his. His skin is warm like asphalt on a hot summer day and softer than any skin he's ever remembered touching. The combination stuns him.

“Hello Sanghyuk. I’m Wonshik. I hope you've found our home comfortable.”

He bows at the waist and returns to his full height, letting Sanghyuk's hand slip from his own. 

Sanghyuk can only nod. His head is swimming with contrasting emotions, aggravated by the low light. Looking away at Larkspur for something else to focus on, it’s then that Sanghyuk realizes the fire is glowing a strange purple light, just underneath the white-hot of the flames. That wood is enchanted. And it’s affecting him.

He snaps an accusatory glare at Taekwoon between Wonshik and Jaehwan, who are both standing before him now. The demon meets his stare after a few moments, but has no response. 

They walk him to the table, and as he's about to sit in the closest chair, Jaehwan jerks him up and hauls him around the table. Taekwoon gives Jaehwan a pointed look as the fae pulls out the heavy wooden chair next to him and motions for Sanghyuk to sit. 

“This is your seat,” Jaehwan says.

Sanghyuk looks from the chair to Taekwoon, who only gives him a half-hearted shrug, and so he sits; again with strength the fae doesn't look like he possesses he pushes the chair in. Taekwoon fidgets beside him and Larkspur whines from beyond the other side of the table.

“Where's Hakyeon?” Sanghyuk asks, shorter than he means for it to sound.

“Arranging each individual parsley leaf I’m sure,” says Jaehwan, plopping himself down next to Wonshik, who angles his head toward him.

“Jaehwan.”

“What?” The fae pouts. “I’m hungry.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence. The fire pops, sending a spark of ember out from the grate and onto the floor. Larkspur paws at it until the sparking orange disappears. Ice clinks against glass as Hongbin takes another drink of his water.

“So, Sanghyuk.” Wonshik steeples his fingers together on the table. “What do you... do back home?”

They way the question is asked bites under Sanghyuk’s skin. He takes suspicious measure of the phoenix who doesn't seem phased by it. Wonshik seems polite enough, but the entire picture is strange and uncomfortable, purple flames or no. It’s as if polite and pleasant are merely a sheen and underneath the surface of this table, this room, this castle, something else is creeping along, and everyone is aware of it but him.

“You mean besides haunting the night and draining the blood of innocents?”

There’s an aborted laugh to his right that he’s sure is Hongbin, but the rest of the table finds it less amusing. Jaehwan seems to be having trouble arranging his napkin in his lap, and Taekwoon heaves a sigh. Wonshik, however, keeps level eye contact with him.

“Of course,” he says. “Besides that.”

Sanghyuk considers all the stories he could make up, but in the end, under the intimidating stare of Wonshik, concludes that he couldn’t pull them off. Part of him wants them to know--wants Taekwoon to know--that he isn’t just some idiot orphan vampire that he picked up off the street. Even if that's true. He wants him to know that he can feel the overriding magic, the superficiality of it all.

“I run a fortune shop. It used to be my maker’s, but I inherited it when he… left. Most of my income is from reading the cards, though.”

“Tarot?” Jaehwan perks up. “Taekwoon reads Tarot.”

“No, I don’t.”

Jaehwan’s ears flatten against his head. “Well, you used to.”

Everyone turns to Hakyeon entering the room backward with a huge, delicious-smelling pot, but Sanghyuk is distracted by Taekwoon’s fingers, imagining them around a deck, shuffling them, bridging them, lying them out one by one in an order he best sees fit. What kind of reader would he be? Severe, no doubt, but thinking back to his power in the library, Sanghyuk can’t help but wonder how good he must have been--

The pot is on the table, and Hakyeon is pawing off his kitchen gloves and apron. The little smile on his face is cute, but pointedly, he isn’t looking at Sanghyuk, even though he is standing before his seat directly across from him.

“So,” he says, sitting down. “What were we talking about?”

Hongbin grabs the serving spoon almost before Jaehwan is done with it. “Vampire is a mind-reader.”

Hakyeon goes very still. “W-what?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Jaehwan says around a mouthful of food. “He’s a fortune teller.”

“Actually… I can see auras. It’s kind of like mind-reading.”

“Is that why your maker chose you?” Wonshik asks.

Wonshik's steel glare hasn't left him, being the only other person in the room not partaking in the meal. Sanghyuk feels the question as if it pierces his chest, the directness of it taking his breath away. It feels intrusive and almost rude to him, but to a centuries old phoenix, what is etiquette?

Sanghyuk takes a moment to collect himself, swallowing the lump in his throat. “That’s a good question, isn’t it?”

“You don't know? I've heard the bond between a vampire and their maker is something very special.”

Sanghyuk looks down at his empty plates and shining silverware. He remembers how his maker always smelled, like lemon and basil, how he'd dog ear the corner of his books. His deep voice as he'd read the cards, explaining the symbolism ever so carefully. Sanghyuk bites his lip as his eyes water, seeing his dark brown eyes flash before him.

Jaehwan clears his throat. “I think the most important question here is: what does my aura look like?” He bounces in his chair. “Come on, tell me.”

Blinking the tears away, Sanghyuk looks around the table. Jaehwan is smiling at him kindly, while everyone else is silent and looking away.

“Your aura is a blueish-green,” he says to the fae. “It’s very fine and misty. It’s almost perky, I guess. It says a lot about you.”

Jaehwan pulls on Wonshik’s sleeve and grins. “See? Even my aura is cute.”

Wonshik bites back a smile, but nods nonetheless. As Jaehwan’s hand slips back under the table, Sanghyuk notices the auras around their arms twirl in a way that can only mean they’re holding hands in Jaehwan’s lap.

All of this makes Wonshik considerably less intimidating.

“What about Wonshik’s?” Jaehwan asks. “Go around the table!”

This elicits mostly groans from everyone but Hongbin, but this is what Sanghyuk was waiting for. A chance to show his power. Whether or not they decide to take it seriously is up to them.

“Wonshik’s is black.”

Wonshik raises an eyebrow.

“It billows, like smoke. Your auras aren’t abrasive to each other, they mingle in and out easily. You must be very close.”

The phoenix’s face prickles with heat as he looks down at his lap. Sanghyuk’s smirk is short-lived as he catches Hakyeon eyeing him. He hasn’t touched his dinner and he didn’t take all that much to begin with. Sanghyuk doesn’t know whether or not this is normal, but he knows something is wrong, knows that he is the source of it.

“What about Hongbin’s?” Jaehwan asks.

“Hongbin’s is a deep red,” Sanghyuk says, searching Hakyeon’s face. For what, he doesn’t know. “It… reminds me of blood, dripping around him in layers.” Hakyeon looks away. “Hongbin is very…” Sanghyuk swallows, considering his next words carefully, “combative.”

“That’s an understatement,” says Taekwoon.

“Yours is a similar color, but more pink. It’s sharp and jumps around you with excess energy. It's heavy and electric. There’s… a lot inside of you that you don’t let out.”

Taekwoon doesn’t look at him. No one looks at Taekwoon. It’s an eerie silence, much different than the one before the food was served, because it speaks volumes of what lies under the surface of this place, and it doesn’t center around Hakyeon--it centers around Taekwoon.

“And mine?” Hakyeon asks. His hands are clasped before him, his face leaning into them. In his hard stare is a challenge. His aura confirms this, whirling around him like silver rain.

“Yours is very pretty,” Sanghyuk says quietly. Then, louder, “It’s silver, and it shimmers and gets pointy when you’re upset. Sometimes it looks like tinsel. Sometimes it looks like rain. Other times it looks like little daggers.” Sanghyuk stares at the end of the fork at his place setting, scraping at it. “I’ve never seen an aura like yours.”

“Can you see your own aura?” Jaehwan asks.

“No. Although sometimes…”

Sanghyuk shakes his head, but Jaehwan encourages him. “Sometimes?”

“Sometimes I see rays of sunlight where they shouldn't be--especially when it's overcast or at night. I always wonder if I'm glimpsing my own aura somehow.”

Jaehwan leans his chin on his hand and sighs. “An aura of sunlight. How romantic. I knew I liked you baby vampire.”

“Don't call me that.”

“Don't call him that.”

Sanghyuk and Taekwoon speak at the same time, and although Sanghyuk is louder, Taekwoon is much more commanding. Jaehwan sputters for an answer, but before he can supply one Taekwoon speaks again.

“Everyone is finished. Take the dishes into the kitchen and leave Sanghyuk and I alone.”

Watching his new friends and acquaintances comply in utter silence angers Sanghyuk. Not only because he wasn't finished showing off, but because of their complacency. This seems to be a normal thing for Taekwoon, these quiet but vast mood swings, and it crawls under Sanghyuk's skin that everyone simply collects their things and shuffles through the door. 

He doesn't want to be alone with Taekwoon. Grinding his teeth together, he bites his tongue and keeps his eyes on the candle flame in front of him. He feels Taekwoon turn to him, but he doesn't give him the same respect.

“I will make sure your shop's rent is paid. You won't lose it for being here.”

“Do you expect a thank you?”

Silence. Then, “I expect nothing from you but your blood.”

“Good. That's all you'll get.”

Sanghyuk cringes at his own words, feeling like a child needing the last word. 

“Speaking of blood,” Taekwoon starts, “I noticed you haven't eaten since the night in the dungeon. You must be famished.”

Sanghyuk's eyes go wide, and he swallows a gasp before it makes a sound. He turns to Taekwoon now to see that his expression is perfectly flat, no intensity in it, but the silence is expectant all the same.

“Ah--yes actually… Hakyeon mentioned something about blood packs…”

“And yet you haven't drank one.”

“I was very tired after the spell and you know--it seemed rude to ask during the middle of dinner--”

“You don't seem all that concerned with etiquette any other time.”

Straightening his back, Sanghyuk looks Taekwoon straight in the eyes. He isn't sure how much he knows--if anything--but he isn't going to go around like this forever. Hakyeon had asked for it. If they have a thing, well… that's between the two of them. 

“Am I under attack for something specific here?”

“Not at all.” Taekwoon stands and walks to the kitchen door before pausing and turning back to him. “Well? Are you coming?”

Taekwoon leads him through the kitchen. In his mood, it's obnoxiously extravagant: shining white and grey marble surfaces set above spotless white cupboards, chrome kitchen appliances, and worst of all, a grandiose chandelier twinkling low above the island. None of it looks like it's ever been used, and Sanghyuk wonders with the magic of this place and the seeming lack of servants if that isn't somehow true. 

The demon stops before the massive refrigerator and pulls the door open to reveal the cleanest, neatest collection of food Sanghyuk has ever seen. 

“This is your drawer.” Taekwoon pulls out the first vegetable drawer to show blood packs lined neatly in rows.

Sanghyuk pulls a container of cold, dead blood from the refrigerator. “Fantastic.”

Grabbing a straw from the counter, Sanghyuk jams it into the pack and tries to keep his face as neutral as possible. 

Taekwoon leans against the counter and his lips quirk up on one side, and Sanghyuk can feel the prickle of his pride in the back of his neck. His own loathing settles deep in his gut to know that he knows; somehow, he knows something that Sanghyuk did not tell him about the blood, and it makes him want to claw the look off the demon's face.

“Is there something wrong, baby vampire?”

Sanghyuk takes a deep drag from the straw out of spite. It tastes rancid, unbearably sour and sweet at the same time, made all the more disgusting by being chilled. He forces himself to swallow. 

“You're an asshole.”

He turns and leaves, thankful to know his own way back to his room. 

 

~ * ~

 

The next morning there is no Hakyeon to wake him up. Sanghyuk goes to bed early, bored; he wakes up with the sun already shining into his room. Its then he realizes that he hasn't seen a single clock in the castle other than Taekwoon's phone.

Padding over to the wardrobe, Sanghyuk finds a black dress shirt that he's almost positive wasn't there before. He's inexplicably drawn to it, runs his fingers over the fine material which is thinner and more fluid than silk. It's unthinkable that he could wear anything else. 

Fitting it into a pair of black jeans, he washes his face and feels ready for the day--whatever that will bring. He decides to explore the castle alone, whatever trouble it might get him into. He hasn't had time to himself except for cooped up in his room and he's starting to feel like a prisoner again. 

As he opens his door he's greeted by Hongbin's door, closed and quiet. He thinks about his smile, the gauntness of his cheeks, the judgment in his voice. How must it feel, to be the only human living among so many immortals--

Sanghyuk pauses right outside his door. “Baby” vampire. How old can Taekwoon be if his human brother looks barely old enough to drink? He breathes through his nose, frustrated. He shouldn't be thinking about Taekwoon right now. This is a nice morning meant for a calm walk.

“Sanghyuk!”

He closes his eyes and cringes. He had just wanted to be alone this morning. 

“Sanghyukkie,” Jaehwan drawls when he gets close enough to stop yelling. “I know you heard me.”

“Sorry, I'm just… out of it.”

“Hmm. Not much sleep?” Jaehwan lowers his face until Sanghyuk looks at him, and to his credit, looks genuinely interested. 

Sanghyuk rubs the back of his head. “Yeah.” A lie. “This place is so different from home. It's uncomfortable.” The truth. 

Jaehwan's face falls. “Oh no. Are you not liking it here? Is it the quiet? That creeped me out at first, too, but I got used to it. Once you get--”

Sanghyuk holds up a hand to stop him. “I'm just homesick. It'll pass.”

“You know what would make you feel better?” 

“If alcohol still worked in my system?”

Jaehwan laughs, and it bounces through the hall. His face looks ridiculously cute, smile lopsided and eyes shining, and Sanghyuk fears that he can't resist anything Jaehwan proposes right now. 

Grabbing Sanghyuk's wrists, Jaehwan tugs him a few steps east and away from his door, giving Sanghyuk deja vu from last night. “Let me show you around! The place isn't as big and creepy as it looks once you know what everything is.”

“I'm not scared.” He pulls his arms free and follows the fae. “But a tour would be nice.”

Sea green glitters in a puff around the back of Jaehwan's head as he--Sanghyuk guesses--rolls his eyes. “Of course not. Ugh, you're so alike.”

“Who?”

“Never mind. These,” Jaehwan says, tapping his fingers against the double doors to the bathing room, “are the doors to heaven.”

“Yes, the bathroom.”

“The bathroom!” Jaehwan gapes at Sanghyuk like he’s offended. “A simple bathroom! Absolutely not. This bath is an experience.”

Sanghyuk can’t help but laugh.

“I don’t know what Hakyeon does to that water, but humans would pay him millions for it. Plus I think it’s like, enchanted.” He looks into the gilded antique mirror hanging beside the doors and scrubs at his face. “I’ve been here almost fifty years and I haven’t changed at all.”

“That’s kind of creepy,” Sanghyuk offers.

Catching Sanghyuk’s eye in the mirror, Jaehwan raises his eyebrow. “The thousand year old castle doesn’t freak you, but the twink with the fountain of youth does?”

“What? No I--”

The fae is already walking off toward the darkened hallway, and Sanghyuk is left before the mirror, face hot because Jaehwan had said the word twink. Which is ridiculous, he tells himself, and he should follow him, but instead he clings to the table, remembering how narrow Hakyeon’s waist had felt in his hands, how very long and soft was his neck, the way the tendons shifted as he drank. He licks his teeth. He isn’t hungry, but he wants to drink.

“Where does that go?” Sanghyuk asks, head inclining toward the east wing once Jaehwan turns around.

Sanghyuk feels Jaehwan’s needling fear in his chest.

“Boring places,” Jaehwan responds.

“But what’s there?”

“Boring things. It belongs to Taekwoon, so naturally, it’s all dark and boring. Half of it’s just deserted. Really just… stay out.”

Jaehwan has to know that this has squashed none of Sanghyuk’s curiosity. But for the moment, he’s being watched, and really, he’s enjoying Jaehwan’s company, so he won’t explore just yet. Jaehwan reminds him more of home than anyone else. He’s the most human of anyone else here. Sanghyuk wonders if that means he’s also the youngest, but he decides not to ask.

Jaehwan stops at the long, thin door across from the bathroom, that looks old and broken, and like maybe you have to jiggle the handle and shove at it with your shoulder in order for it to open. The white paint on either sides of the door is peeling and Sanghyuk tamps down the urge to pick at it some more with his claws.

“This is Taekwoon’s lab.” Jaehwan twirls his hand in the air. “Or as Hakyeon likes to call it, his fire hazard.”

“What’s in there?”

“I don’t know? Lab stuff? It’s probably gross. He’s always in there, but I can’t imagine he’s only researching saving Hongbin.”

“Can we go in?”

Jaehwan takes Sanghyuk’s face in both hands. “What part of territorial don’t you get? He was a really powerful witch before he was a demon. We’ll wake up half frog or something. Let’s go.”

Taekwoon hasn’t always been a demon. That’s new. It feels obvious given Hongbin’s condition, but it also feels very important, and if the slope of Jaehwan’s shoulders and the droop of his aura are any indication, Jaehwan talks a lot more than he’s supposed to.

Was Taekwoon this way before he was a demon? Territorial, deceitful, harsh, prideful. Sanghyuk has only seen one inkling of a tender moment and it was for his brother--which may or may not have been a show for Sanghyuk’s benefit. Taekwoon had said demons only bring misery--was he speaking from experience?

Sanghyuk missed Hongbin’s door in his thought, but now Jaehwan is pushing him out the bright red double doors beside it. He shivers and wraps his arms around himself as the cold morning air hits him. 

“That’s my favorite place,” Jaehwan informs him with a proud smile, pulling him to the edge of the wrought iron balcony and pointing down. “Wonshik takes care of it.”

The sun glimmers off the conservatory glass below, and all Sanghyuk can make out beneath it is a sea of plants. Rolling hills and damp glittering green is all Sanghyuk can see to the horizon. More birds than he’s ever heard chirp and caw from above and below. Sanghyuk is hit with a dizzying confirmation of two things at once, which makes him told tight to the balcony lest he fall: one: that this is an undoubtedly concrete place that exists in the world, and two: it is perfectly secluded, with nowhere to go even if he wanted.

“Are you still thinking of home?” Jaehwan asks.

“Do you want the truth?”

Jaehwan rolls his head to the side to look at him. “I forget how odd strangers are. Yes, I want the truth. But you don’t have to tell me.”

“There’s nothing really for me to be homesick for,” Sanghyuk admits. He sighs. “But I do still feel caged.”

Jaehwan watches a sparrow bounce around on the overgrown vines below. “That's normal for now, isn't it? Taekwoon basically kidnapped you.” His smile is bright and sincere. “But give us a chance, okay? We're better than your nothing, I promise.”

“Why did you come here?”

“The same reason as you. Taekwoon wanted to try fae blood in his rituals. As you can tell, it had no effect on Hongbin.”

“Did he kidnap you too?”

“Well… I didn't refuse him. But it's uh, interesting to know now that I never really had a choice. Although I probably should have known. Taekwoon would kill any of us to save Hongbin. All of us. I believe that.”

“You say that with awe in your voice. That's murder.”

“It's also a kind of passion and loyalty I've never known. Haven't you thought about it that way? Taekwoon isn't even living for himself. It's all for Hongbin.”

“It sounds like stubborn obsession.”

Jaehwan giggles. “You'd know nothing about stubbornness, right?”

“Why did you end up staying?”

Jaehwan purses his lips. 

“I see. Wonshik.”

“No!” He pouts. “I mean, yes, he was part of the decision. But this place is special, can't you feel it? There's magic everywhere. Before I came here I used my magic to get by making people leave me bigger busking tips. I didn't have a home or a family and suddenly one fell into my lap. I wasn't going to let it go.”

“It sounds like Taekwoon preys on people that won't be missed.”

Jaehwan’s form shimmers and is replaced with Taekwoon's, dressed in a uniform that Sanghyuk can only describe as “disney prince,” complete with weird toothbrush things on the shoulders. He wiggles his eyebrows. “My dearest Sanghyuk,” he says in a perfect rendition of Taekwoon's voice, and Sanghyuk hates that he blushes. “Methinks thou dost protest too much.” Then, he turns to head back into the hallway. 

“That's not what that quote means!” Sanghyuk calls after him. “Jaehwan!”

Opening the door back into the heated air, he finds Jaehwan in front of the next door, talking to it's inhabitant. When he gets close enough he realizes it's Hakyeon--a sleepy-eyed, messy-haired, puffy-lipped, gorgeous-looking Hakyeon.

“I'm only showing him around the west wing,” Jaehwan says. 

Sanghyuk is blatantly staring at Hakyeon's neck and collarbones, hanging out out a shirt that's far too wide for him in the shoulders, and he can't make himself look up to meet his eyes.

“I said good morning, Sanghyuk.”

“Hakyeon, I--good morning--” 

The hunger disappears as Hakyeon's face turns somber and Hakyeon's disappointment filters through Sanghyuk's thoughts. Hakyeon leans against his door and looks at Jaehwan. “You've shown him the conservatory, then?”

“Only from above. We had a nice little chat on the balcony, didn't we?”

Hakyeon's eyes look weary against his droopy, coal-grey aura. 

“Yeah.”

“Go on then,” Hakyeon says. He hides behind his door a little more. “Finish up. I need to get ready for the day.”

“Hakyeon--”

The door is shut softly before Sanghyuk can say anything else. 

“Did he seem off to you, Mr. Aura Reader?” Jaehwan asks. 

“Divulging that information to others always seems like an invasion of privacy.”

Jaehwan hums. “I guess you're right.”

Jaehwan actually opens the next door, but he blocks Sanghyuk from entering. “This,” he says, “is the game room.”

It is, indeed, an old-fashioned pool room with a velvet-lined pool table sitting in the middle.

“But don't call it that in front of Taekwoon. It's the ‘Billiard Room,’” Jaehwan says, using air quotes. 

The next room is the library, and this time, they walk inside. Sanghyuk hasn’t been in the room since the ritual, and the feeling of the space is completely different--warm, homely, inviting. Even the way the furniture is arranged seems to make him feel at peace.

There’s a long wooden table and chairs by the stairs up to the second level, and a couple of old patterned sitting chairs by the unlit fireplace. But his eyes are drawn to the centerpiece of the room: a heavy round table with clawed feet, surrounded by a couch and chairs of gold and red velvet design, heavily cushioned. On all sides of the little alcove a window stands dressed with sheer drapes, providing little sunlight but much beauty.

In the middle of it all sits Taekwoon, reading a book. Longest Living Plants and Animals. A notepad lies on the table with a pen, and some of his chicken scratch is already on half the page. Against the backdrop of bookshelves, his profile is delicate and austere all at once, and Sanghyuk’s fingers itch to run over the slope of his nose.

There’s an elbow in his side, and Jaehwan laughs quietly. “I’m nothing like the real thing right?”

Jaehwan approaches the table and flops down on the couch, lying on it sideways. Taekwoon hasn’t reacted to their presence yet, but Sanghyuk knows he won’t be particularly happy about it. So he slinks to the seat farthest away from Taekwoon and sits as quietly as he can, folding his hands in his lap.

“Good morning, master Taekwoon,” says Jaehwan.

“Hello, brat.” Taekwoon turns a page. “What do you want?”

“Do I need a reason to say good morning to my good friend and wonderful host?”

Taekwoon writes something on the pad--he doesn’t mean to pry, but Sanghyuk thinks it might be the scientific name of a flower. “You have reason for not being glued to Wonshik in bed until noon.”

“Hey! Don’t embarrass me in front of Sanghyuk.”

Marking his place with his pen, Taekwoon sets the book down and looks at Sanghyuk. His observation feels harsh, like a cold hand roaming over his chest and shoulders. Sanghyuk takes a deep breath and it comes out shakily. His hands are sweating.

“What--are you reading?” Why is he so nervous?

“Nothing that would interest you.”

Sanghyuk furrows his brows. There’s no way he could possibly know that. Why is he so difficult?

“It’s for Hongbin, isn’t it?” Sanghyuk asks.

“Oh my, look at the time!” Jaehwan interrupts, standing and stretching until the tops of his fingers touch the alcove ceiling. Sanghyuk looks around for a clock; he doesn’t remember seeing one. “I have an appointment with Wonshik, I have to go.” Sanghyuk moves to get up, but Jaehwan is behind him, pressing down hard on his shoulders. “You two be good little hellspawn, okay?”

Taekwoon rubs his temple as Jaehwan leaves, closing the door behind him.

Sanghyuk uses the distraction to get a better look at the notes. “Quercus rubra? Isn’t that just oak?”

Narrowing his eyes, Taekwoon covers his notes with the book. “Red oak in particular.”

“Why won’t you let me help you? You know I own a magic shop.”

“You’re no witch of my power.”

“Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean I can’t help. I thought you’d do anything for Hongbin?”

“If a customer came in looking for an immortality spell, what would you do?”

“You’re… trying to make him immortal?”

“Answer the question.”

“Well, before you I would have thought they were crazy. But if a customer asked me for longevity ingredients, I’d suggest… angelica, moss...cypress, verbena… maybe licorice tea for something edible.”

“I’ve tried all that.”

“Have you? All the forms? The roots, the leaves, the sap? All the different types of moss, their leaves and stems?”

Taekwoon clasps his hands, his form bending over the table, his aura buzzing nervously. His voice is barely audible. “I’m doing the best I can, with the time I have left.”

Sanghyuk feels his own and Taekwoon's guilt in a terrible clawing mixture inside his chest. “I know you are.”

Taekwoon stands.

“Wait--” Sanghyuk starts, but Taekwoon's broad shoulders don't go far, only over to a wooden desk with nothing but a fountain pen on top. He pulls something from the top drawer and slides it into his jacket pocket before Sanghyuk can see what it is. 

“I have a question for you,” he says, walking slowly back to his place, not making eye contact, looking--shy? Crossing his long legs, he sits back down, and once again Sanghyuk is reminded of a spider. “What draws you to the cards?”

Sanghyuk sits back in his chair. “That's a big question. You should know. It's not a one-sentence answer.”

Taekwoon shakes his head, but unlike other times Sanghyuk has seen the motion, he doesn't look annoyed. “I didn't ask you to be succinct.”

What is the draw? There are a million little reasons he loves the cards: the moments he gets to spend with people, the ways in which he can help them. That they brought him to his maker. But that isn't it.

“The cards are life itself. There isn't anything you can experience that the cards can't mirror. There's something so comforting about that. That symbolism can run so deep into our consciousness that it's a universal language.”

Sanghyuk thinks he has more to say, could go on for an hour about tarot, but the way Taekwoon is looking at him now is making him feel hot instead of cold, and he doesn't trust himself to speak again. His face is burning to have shared something so personal, and at that, he can feel the first real tingle of hunger in his fingernails.

Reaching into his pocket, Taekwoon pulls out a deck of tarot cards and places them in the center of the table. The back is a simple black and white diamond motif. The cards look old, lovingly used that only years of respectful reading can attest to.

“I'm glad to hear you're not a hack,” says Taekwoon.

There's a comfortable silence that passes between the two of them in which Sanghyuk thinks that this can't be real, he can't be getting along with Taekwoon, much less feeling a groggy type of happiness in his presence.

“What about you?” Sanghyuk asks. “What draws you to the cards?”

Taekwoon licks his lips. “Nothing. Time took that joy from me a long time ago.” He leans forward to push the cards toward Sanghyuk. “That is why I want you to have these.”

“Me?” Sanghyuk's eyes widen. “But these are yours.”

“I have the supplies to cleanse them if that's what you're worried about.”

“No, it's just--you would give them to me?”

“You must be missing yours.”

“Yeah,” says Sanghyuk, touching the deck reverently. He smiles at Taekwoon. “I really do.”

Sanghyuk begins to shuffle the deck when Taekwoon says, “But I need something in return.”

Stopping mid-shuffle, the only sound is the cards falling softly back into place as Sanghyuk stares at Taekwoon, hard. “Really? You couldn't let this be a nice moment? Not even for two seconds?”

“Surely you're fluent in Arcanum?”

Hyuk sighs and collects the cards to flip them over, looking for The Sun. That's his favorite card. If a deck doesn't have a well-drawn The Sun, it's basically useless. Like Taekwoon. 

“I mean, I'm not fluent. But I'm pretty well versed. Taekwoon lae gifum quwimbe.”

“Yes, I'm an asshole. So you’ve told me.” Taekwoon holds his chin in his hand. “You'll have to do. I need someone to help me translate my list of research and I don't have enough time left to do it all.”

“And if I don't?”

Taekwoon cocks his head to the side, just slightly. “You will. You care about people in turmoil. What's more, you're bored.”

He gets to The Sun and finds it radiant. The red flag is big, and bright, and held perfectly by the child. He smiles. “Let me read your cards.”

“Absolutely not.”

Hyuk does his best pouty face, which his mother always said made him look like a duck. An irresistible duck. “Come on. Please?”

“That will never happen.”

“Fine then. You read mine.”

Silence. An opening.

“It will be like a goodbye to your old cards. Use them one last time.” Sanghyuk doesn't know why, but now that he's said it, he really wants it. He needs to know the differences between their styles. He wants to hear Taekwoon's voice as he interprets the cards.

Taekwoon heaves a very dramatic sigh, making his hair fall into his face. “Well, come on then.” He makes grabbing motions across the table. “I need the cards to do it.”

The deck looks bigger in his hands, but he shuffles quicker, with more confidence. It takes the second fancy trick for Sanghyuk to realize that he's showing off, his silver rings glinting in the lamp light. 

“I'm only doing a three card spread,” Taekwoon says. “Problem, Outside, and Inside.” 

He stops shuffling and tells Sanghyuk to cut the deck twice, into three piles. Pulling the top card from each pile, Taekwoon lies them in a row and pushes the rest of the deck to the side. 

“I'm not going to go easy on you,” he says.

“I wouldn't ask you to.” Sanghyuk is on the edge of his seat to see better, biting his lip. 

Taekwoon flips the first card. It's the ten of pentacles reversed. The second card, the eight of swords. The third, The Fool. 

He stares at Sanghyuk in a blank manner until he says:

“Your problem has to do with family and heritage. You have no place to call home, no one to pass down your gift to.”

Sanghyuk's mouth goes dry.

“On the outside you suffer from a self-imposed loneliness in which you won't open up to anyone.”

Tears collect in Sanghyuk's eyelashes. 

“On the inside your insecurity of having another bad experience stops you from trusting anyone again.”

_Sanghyuk, oh God, what have you done?_

__

__

I needed this! And you kept it from me! 

_Sanghyuk. Sanghyuk._

“Sanghyuk.” 

Taekwoon is there, knelt beside him, hand on his knee and rubbing little circles into his thigh.

_How could you do this to me? Why couldn't you just be patient?_

_Maybe I was tired of you making all my decisions for me--_

“Sanghyuk you're here with me. It's mid-morning and you're in my library. Come back to me.”

Sanghyuk blinks and the vision is gone as quickly as it came. His hands still grip the side of the table, his knuckles white, his hands shaking. Taekwoon pries one of them off to hold it between both of his. 

“I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

Sanghyuk jerks his hand away. “How could you give anyone a reading like that? Where is your tact and empathy?”

“Please stop crying.”

Reaching up to swipe his face, Sanghyuk looks to his fingers to find them bloody.

“Crying?” Hakyeon says from the doorway. Then, closer, “Taekwoon, what did you do?”

“I--” Taekwoon stands up and backs away, giving Hakyeon room to take his place. “I didn't mean to.”

Hakyeon jerks the chair to face toward him and cups Sanghyuk's chin in both hands. “What happened?”

“I had some bad memories. I'm going to be fine, really. Please don't make a fuss, I'll feel embarrassed later.”

Taekwoon chuckles. “Hakyeon's middle name is fuss.”

“Yeah?” Hakyeon shoots Taekwoon a look. “You should try it some time.”

Sanghyuk lets Hakyeon help him out of the chair but pushes the demon's arm away. 

To Sanghyuk's surprise, Hakyeon leads him to his own room instead of Sanghyuk's room. A blink later and Hakyeon is there with a warm, wet towel, dabbing at Sanghyuk's face and his eyes roaming Sanghyuk's body with concern.

Hakyeon's room is bigger than his, outfitted in white antiques and black electronics, which makes Sanghyuk feel an odd sense of lopsided. A collection of white and blue Chinese tea kettles line the huge window, showing what looks like an overgrown rose garden. It seems like a room where everything has it's place and you better put it back when you're done. 

“If you want to talk about those memories, I'm here for you.” Hakyeon says.

“You first,” Sanghyuk says, an odd amount of bravery for someone just caught crying. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I don't want to talk about it.” Hakyeon demands.

“Neither do I.”

Hakyeon puffs out a breath. “Great.”

“But I'm hungry.”

They're sitting side by side, so Sanghyuk can't see his reaction, and he's too afraid to look. But silence is answer enough, he supposes. 

“Sanghyuk. No.”

“Why not?” Sanghyuk's fangs are growing, causing his S's to sound strange. “You have to be some place to play house husband?”

Hakyeon laughs, but it's weary. “Don't call me that.”

“Please?” Sanghyuk holds Hakyeon's neck where he bit last time, and bites down on the ear closest to him. “I'll do anything you want.”

Hakyeon grabs a fistful of Sanghyuk's hair and pulls him off his ear. Sanghyuk moans loud and shameless, just to show off.

“What I want,” Hakyeon licks his lips, out of breath, “is for you to go back to your room.”

“And don't bother going after anyone else, either. They've had a talk. There's blood in the fridge and you'll just have to live with that. We all have to make sacrifices.”

Before the door, Sanghyuk turns. “How did he find out?”

“What?”

“How did Taekwoon find out I drank from you?”

Hakyeon lifts his shoulders and bites his lip. “I told him.” He turns serious, all at once. “Why? Oh God is that why he hurt you?”

“No, no,” Sanghyuk shakes his head. “I don't know why you'd tell him though.”

“He was already suspicious and I'm a bad liar.”

“It's a shame,” Sanghyuk says, opening the door. “You only got to experience being bit on the neck.”

He closes the door behind him.


	5. Salt and Lavender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions and answers

Hakyeon sits on his pristine white bed and watches Sanghyuk close his pristine white door.

_ We all have to make sacrifices,  _ he had told the vampire.

But does he have to sacrifice his feelings?

He listens as Sanghyuk hesitates outside his door, half-hoping he'll step back inside. Disappointing, that his quiet footsteps finally fall away and back toward his room.

He's used to people telling him about his presence. Sleepy, dreamy, romantic. He's used to people's advances when he doesn't want them. He doesn't know what to do with a presence that influences him; advances that he wants but he doesn't deserve.

Hakyeon tries to lie with his iPad but he ends up scrolling mindlessly while thinking about Taekwoon and Hongbin, about Sanghyuk, about the taste of blood on his tongue. It doesn't help that he's ended up on a news page about a terrorist attack in France. He's no different than a terrorist, not really.

He shuts the machine off and stands to stretch, loving the sound and feeling of his bones cracking in his neck and shoulders. He needs to talk to Taekwoon, but he's avoiding it, standing awkwardly before his bed and running his toes through his fluffy rug.

Well. He can't show up without tea, can he?

He pulls a silver tray from beneath his kettles and places one on the the tray, filling it with boiling water with a simple thought. Two teacups and black teas later, he's headed out of his room and back to the library.

Taekwoon is still in the alcove, but he's distracted, his elegant eyebrows drawn together as he stares out the window with a book in his lap. His thumb strokes his chin rhythmically, a habit of worry.

“Taekwoon?” Hakyeon says softly, more to alert him of his presence than anything.

As the demon turns, Hakyeon can see that his eyes are red-rimmed, but they're already hard; the moment of emotion has passed.

Tarot cards are strewn out from the table across the rug, some showing the backs, some the delicate art of the cards. Hakyeon sidesteps them and slides the tray onto the table, Taekwoon watching him the entire time. He squats to begin picking up the cards.

“Leave them.”

Taekwoon's voice is empty and dark. Hakyeon closes his eyes against memories he doesn't want.

“Okay.”

Serving Taekwoon his tea, sitting across from him, smiling as he takes a sip of his own, it's all mechanical. Hakyeon feels a lump in his throat, a void in the bottom of his stomach.

Taekwoon finishes his tea in one drink and pours another over the same bag.

“What happened?” Hakyeon finally asks, bracing himself for the blowback.

Taekwoon turns his cup in his fingers, looking down at it. “Does it matter?”

Of course it matters. And Taekwoon knows that's a stupid question to ask him, of all people. Hakyeon hates this, the wall he puts up. Hakyeon prides himself on being the shoulder to cry on, the person that makes things better. Someone that understands emotion and helps work through it. And Taekwoon--Taekwoon wants to pretend it doesn't exist.

“It does to me.”

“It's none of your business.” Taekwoon looks back outside the window. He hasn't touched his new cup of tea.

Hakyeon's stomach clenches. “Why do you shut me out?”

“I told you, it was nothing.”

Smart ass. This is so much bigger than Sanghyuk, he knows this. They never talk anymore. He's never around. They never fuck. Everything is about Hongbin. He gets it, he does, but it's not healthy, and god damnit, he could help if only Taekwoon would let him.

But fine, Hakyeon will play along.

“‘Nothing’ doesn't make Sanghyuk cry.”

Taekwoon scoffs. “He doesn't belong to you.”

Hakyeon gapes at Taekwoon, setting down his cup. “ _ What? _ ”

“You heard me.” Taekwoon stands and walks across the Tarot cards on his way out of the library. “I need to see Hongbin.”

The silence of the library only serves to make Hakyeon angrier by the moment. Hakyeon would never claim to own anyone, much less someone he respected as much as Sanghyuk, who gave up his life to help a stranger, who is that essentially  _ good _ . Maybe sometimes he can be a bit smothering but--

No. Taekwoon isn't going to make him doubt himself.

 

 

~*~

 

 

When he arrives back in his bedroom, Sanghyuk finds on his desk three books and a laptop, set up for translating. It paints a cozy picture, good feelings of being young and eager to learn. He throws himself into it, pushing away thoughts of Taekwoon, of Hakyeon, of his maker.

An hour and twenty pages later there's a knock on his door. Annoyed, he imagines an awkward Taekwoon standing outside his door, coming to apologize, which he thinks he deserves. A sincere apology, and no more cold blood. He doesn't think it's too much to ask for--

Hakyeon throws his arms around Sanghyuk's neck before the door is fully open and knocks it shut with his heel. Something in his eyes is reckless and a little desperate. He pushes closer.

“Are you still hungry?” he asks, more vulnerable than Sanghyuk's ever heard him.

The pain claws through Sanghyuk's forearms and holds a vice on his shoulders. He burns for blood. Distantly he's aware of the danger, that something had to have changed Hakyeon's mind, but the hunger--all the hunger understands is that Hakyeon tastes sweet and feels warm, pressing his body against his own.

“Please let me bite you again,” Sanghyuk pleads against soft wisps of his hair.

Hakyeon jumps, wrapping his legs around Sanghyuk's waist. Startled, Sanghyuk stumbles backward and grasps him tightly so he doesn't fall. Then Hakyeon is kissing him, favoring his bottom lip and whining, sounding just as hungry as Sanghyuk feels.

Hakyeon kisses so sweetly; soft presses of his lips and long licks of his tongue. The air around them is soft, dreamy; Sanghyuk forgets where he's at, what he's upset for. All he knows is Hakyeon's tongue against his and his hands roaming his chest.

“I want more than just your bite,” Hakyeon says lowly. 

The way he's looking down through his eyelashes makes Sanghyuk wish he were human again, that he could take him now against the door where everyone--especially Taekwoon--might hear it.

Instead he backs up until the back of his knees hit the bed and sits, lying backward to enjoy Hakyeon's intensity. Hakyeon clings to him and continues, licks at his jaw, runs his lips over the poke of stubble underneath his chin, which gets a messy kiss while a free hand strays to his jeans.

“Hakyeon--”

“Mmmm.”

Curling his fingers around Hakyeon's hand, Sanghyuk draws it back up his chest. “I have to feed.”

“I want both at the same time.”

Hakyeon runs his hips across Sanghyuk's stomach and feeling his arousal, Sanghyuk doesn't know whether he's more turned on or jealous. He knows he hates this part.

“I need the blood to get hard,” he explains.

“Oh.” Hakyeon blinks rapidly. “Oh.”

For some reason this turns Hakyeon on--Sanghyuk feels it in a swirl of heat in his own stomach. He squawks as Sanghyuk rises and flips him onto the bed, standing at the end of it.

Biting his lip, Hakyeon places a bare foot against Sanghyuk's chest. “Where are you going to bite me?”

Letting his claws loose, Sanghyuk runs them from Hakyeon's ankle to his thigh. His thumb claw presses through thin cotton pants until he can feel claw meet skin. The lilting sound he gets in return makes his veins ache.

“Here,” he says, running the point of his claw against Hakyeon's delicate inner thigh. Pulling Hakyeon's elbow to his mouth, he bites through the fabric, grazing skin. “And here.”

“ _ Please _ .”

He undresses Hakyeon slowly, watching his reactions go from coy to eager. He can't remember the last time he had someone like this, bare and wanting, much less someone he wanted in return. Sanghyuk never wanted his maker, not like his maker had wanted him, and God does he want Hakyeon--with more intensity than he should admit.

Pulling Hakyeon up to the mass of lacy pillows, Sanghyuk nudges his nose in the crook of Hakyeon's shoulder and inhales as deep as he can, wanting salt and lavender, wondering if he'll go beneath the ocean again.

He stills, thinking of blood red rock and the fear in Hakyeon's eyes the last time he had him. As hungry as he is the thought runs through him like ice and he decides right then that he's never going to let that happen between them again.

All four of his fangs sink into Hakyeon's shoulder. To feel the flesh give way is not unlike sinking into a comfortable bed after a long day. Sanghyuk sighs into his neck and laps across the puncture holes repeatedly.

Hakyeon pulls Sanghyuk closer by his belt. “Drink.”

Nipping his tongue, Sanghyuk heals the wounds. “No.”

One by one, he uncurls Hakyeon's fingers from the bedspread and brings his arm to bite into the full, sensitive flesh just beneath his elbow.

Hakyeon hisses and curls into himself. They both watch the blood collect and drip before Sanghyuk cleans it up, closing the marks again.

“Don't tease me,” Hakyeon says. “I thought you were hungry.”

Sanghyuk pushes Hakyeon back down. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t--” Hakyeon interrupts himself with an exasperated grunt. “Must we do this now?”

Sanghyuk rolls his body down into Hakyeon, watching with satisfaction as the determination on his face breaks into pleasure.

“What are you afraid of?” Sanghyuk asks.

“I'm not afraid.”

Hakyeon follows with a sharp shout as Sanghyuk bites into the skin around his nipple. He bites down again and again over the same sensitive flesh, Hakyeon's outburst higher and needier each time. The blood runs free to stain the bed. Sanghyuk smears what he can across his lips and pulls back to look into Hakyeon's eyes.

“Refuse me again, Hakyeon.” He licks his lips slowly. “There are so many places I want to mark you.”

Hakyeon huffs a laugh, entirely breathless. “I'd never guessed you this sadistic.”

“You don't know me.”

The sorrow suddenly in Hakyeon's eyes feels like a kick to the chest. “You don't know me, either.”

He tries to roll out from underneath Sanghyuk who is far quicker; the vampire shoves him back and farther up the bed into a half sitting position.

“What are you afraid of?” Sanghyuk asks again.

The emptiness in Hakyeon's chuckle sends s chill up Sanghyuk's spine. He looks defeated, drained of color as if Sanghyuk has already sucked him dry, and utterly cold, like a lonely Winter garden with nothing but blank snow and dead trees. His aura looks like a million slight needles, delicate and deadly. The combination has Sanghyuk rolling backward, out of Hakyeon's space and onto his haunches.

“Hakyeon?”

“I'm a killer, Sanghyuk.”

“Because you were young and feral once?”

“I've hurt so many people. Innocents. Not for their blood or meat, for my own sustenance. But because it was fun, but because I liked the way it felt when they screamed to their gods as I tore out their throats. That dominance.” The entire bed shakes with his shiver.

“Why are you afraid of so long ago? You're not like that anymore.”

Hakyeon's face softens. “Oh, Sanghyuk. Yes I am. I still feel it, that barbed thread pulling at me.”

“Hakyeon.” Sanghyuk's chest feels heavy with the importance of convincing Hakyeon of his point of view. A combination of his own grief and Hakyeon's, it feels like the entire Castle is sat squarely upon his heart. “Hakyeon, we're monsters. That's our nature.”

Hakyeon scoffs. “To crave murder for it's own sake?”

Sanghyuk holds Hakyeon's chin, the barest of touches. “For the power, the rush, the arousal.”

Hakyeon finally looks at him.

“You don't think I feel it?” Sanghyuk continues. “I know Taekwoon does. I felt it the night I met him.”

“But you're--he's--a good person.”

Sanghyuk bites his tongue at Hakyeon's judgment of Taekwoon. “Simply because we channel our cravings into our needs? You're the one that hasn't killed in… how long has it been?”

“That's not the point.”

“Then what is?” Sanghyuk asks, a little sharply, beginning to get annoyed with talking in circles.

“How can…” Hakyeon's aura fades to a white ash and slows, a falling sensation like that of the quietest snow. “How can anyone love someone like me?” He curls into a ball, covering his face with his arms and legs.

Sanghyuk's heart shatters to hear his own insecurities reflected back to him by this gorgeous creature. But unlike him, who  _ couldn't _ love Hakyeon? He watches speechless as his shoulders tremble, listening to the small gasps he tries to hide. Reaching for him, Sanghyuk begins to speak but Hakyeon kicks out, and Sanghyuk feels the rolling waves of fear and embarrassment, feels how much Hakyeon would hate being held right now.

“Hakyeon…” Sanghyuk says, softly, desperately.

Hakyeon slithers between Sanghyuk and the bed to collect his clothes from the floor. He shoves them back on his frame, trembling, none of his usual poise or grace. He leaves without a word, and Sanghyuk thinks that hurts more than anything he could have said.

 

 

~ * ~

 

 

Taekwoon collects him a quiet few days later to draw his blood at an ungodly hour, before the sun. He looks unkempt, which is entirely new for the demon--Sanghyuk is positive he hasn’t slept at all, yesterday’s clothes still hanging on his wiry frame. He tries to usher Sanghyuk out of his room without a change of clothes as well, but relents when he realizes the vampire doesn’t wear anything to sleep. He stands in the corner while Sanghyuk dresses, cracking his knuckles and muttering for him to hurry. His demeanor reminds Sanghyuk of his father when he couldn’t afford nicotine: frayed at the edges and ready to explode at the slightest provocation.

So Sanghyuk indulges him, dresses quickly and follows him out into the hallway which is fast becoming a familiar token of both his freedom and his confinement. Taekwoon leads him across the hall to his laboratory, proving Sanghyuk’s imagination wrong when the door opens inward without any inconvenience. He holds the door open for Sanghyuk and welcomes him inside with an outstretched arm, and before he can take a single step the coalescence of familiar smells sweeps through him like a rake among autumn leaves.

The basil hits him first, throwing him momentarily back to his last tarot reading before he left. He can see so clearly for a moment the curtains surrounding his reading booth that he has to blink rapidly for the shabby door frame to come back into focus. There’s gardenia and cloves, rosemary and citrus--and so very many different types of blood, prodding Sanghyuk’s fangs to pulse with hunger. Amongst it all is an undercurrent of less pleasant smells: mermaid scales, mold, formaldehyde and ammonia. 

“Are you alright?” Taekwoon asks.

Sanghyuk clears his throat and swallows. “I’m okay. The smells were just overwhelming for a minute.”

Taekwoon nods. “I forget about your senses. Is it too much?”

“No,” says Sanghyuk, lips curving into a small smile. “It reminds me of home.”

Sanghyuk doesn’t know exactly what he was expecting--a room much like the dungeon he was first subject to, maybe, a dark, damp lair with humanoid skulls sporting candles--but once Taekwoon flips the switch of the light, the room can only be described by Sanghyuk as beautiful.

‘Laboratory’ seems like such a silly thing to call it. Lined with bookshelves on all sides except for the fireplace, the space in the middle of the room is taken up entirely by three desks and a large wooden table. The bookshelves themselves are crammed with no particular rhyme or reason. Crystals sit on top of books; jars of herbs ordered in no discernable way that Sanghyuk can see, some left open; beaks and feathers sitting among the stacks of taper candles. On the desks books are stacked haphazardly, paper tabs sticking out at all angles, while the open ones are overwhelmed with Taekwoon’s writing all around the margins.

A whirling ache slams into Sanghyuk’s chest. He misses home, his own dried flowers and bundles of sage, the feel of the cards underneath his hands, customers both good and bad--home. He wonders again why he agreed to do this and if it’s worth it. He could have said no so easily. Again Sanghyuk wonders about the magic ensconced in this place, how much of his free will it draws upon.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Taekwoon asks again, this time with an edge of anxiety.

Sanghyuk stops inspecting a bundle of strange-smelling baby’s breath, startled by Taekwoon’s voice. “I’m a little homesick is all,” he says, turning to face him. And hungry, he doesn’t say.

“Oh.” Taekwoon shuffles, looking away. “Well, I’m ready for you.”

He’s standing behind the armchair by the mantle, clinging to the back of it. Sanghyuk narrows his eyes. The demon is acting particularly docile this morning. He doubts it’s because of the lack of sleep. The phantom feeling of Taekwoon’s thumb rubbing circles on his knee returns.

_ Taekwoon, what did you do? _

_ I didn’t mean to. _

Sanghyuk perches carefully on the navy leather, sneaking a peak at Taekwoon and his tools. Breathing a sigh of relief, he finds them all to be very clinical: a medical-grade syringe, normal looking blood vials, a cotton ball and a band aid, which Sanghyuk decides is cute--of course, he would just lick the needle pricks closed.

“Do you know which arm is better for drawing blood?” Taekwoon asks. “Which has better veins?”

Veins. Blood. Hungry.

Taekwoon seems to take his silence as a no. He takes Sanghyuk’s wrists in his hands, turning them so his palms are up. Unbuttoning each sleeve at the wrist, he slides the fabric up with the back of his fingers and ever so softly pushes at the inside of Sanghyuk’s elbow with his thumbs.

Sanghyuk licks his lower lip. The gentle touches along his veins inflame their lust for blood. Taekwoon discards his right arm and moves to the left, and Sanghyuk can smell the spice of his shampoo, staring down at the curve of his ear, and the juncture of his neck and shoulder exposed from his collar beyond that.

What would Taekwoon taste like? He so briefly had a taste of the goblin--do all demons taste the same? Is his blood as syrupy thick? Sanghyuk swallows, licking frantically at his hardening fangs.

Taekwoon fashions the tourniquet around Sanghyuk’s right arm, and goes back to poking at his elbow. The needle goes in with ease and he finds a vein on the first try, popping a vial into the syringe.

“I’m sorry for the other day,” Taekwoon mumbles, watching Sanghyuk’s blood spurt into the vial. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You were kind of a dick,” Sanghyuk says, wishing his fang lisp wasn’t so apparent, “but I know you didn’t mean for that to happen.”

Taekwoon switches to a second vial with a chuckle. “Even your own blood gets you going, huh?”

If you only knew, he thinks. Instead, he says, “I’ll forgive you if you answer a question for me.”

“What is the question?” Taekwoon asks, raising his eyes but not his head.

“If you and Hongbin are brothers, why is he human?”

A third vial. Taekwoon's face is smooth and pristine, as if he hasn't heard Sanghyuk at all, as if he never spoke. Sanghyuk looks beyond him at the fireplace, flanked on either side by Greco-Roman statues of women with grapes in their hair.

“I’ve made my share of mistakes,” Taekwoon says, “and I’m paying for them.”

Sanghyuk should have expected something as cryptic, but Taekwoon’s regret coiling in his stomach only manages to stir his curiosity. As Taekwoon places his blood inside of the mini fridge behind him, a flood of new questions beg for Sanghyuk to ask them.

“Like?”

“I wouldn’t ask you to share the reasons for the other day against your will. Don’t ask the same of me.”

Sanghyuk wants to argue the fairness of that, the situations being entirely different--but something in the droop of Taekwoon’s shoulders reminds him of the sorrow in Hakyeon’s eyes when he fled from him, and he bites his tongue, quite literally, lapping at his inner elbow.

“Is all of this research for him?” Sanghyuk asks, nodding his head toward the desks.

Taekwoon runs a hand through his hair and sighs. He looks weary again, the same as he did when he first appeared at Sanghyuk’s door. “Most of it, yes.”

“What will you do with my blood?”

Taekwoon chuckles under his breath, an exasperated but not unfriendly sound. “You ask too many questions.”

Sanghyuk can hear the same accusation from the mouth of his maker. The situations are nothing alike, he knows this, but he can’t help the sour feeling in his gut. He shakes the deja vu away, not wanting to make another scene, but the similarities continue to prickle at the back of his mind. The smell of patchouli, boiling frustration from too many questions left unanswered.

A sudden wave of nausea hits Sanghyuk and his vision rolls. He grasps his forehead in his hand as his fingers prickle with chill. The room feels wretchedly cold, like he’s been plunged into ice water. The veins in his arms twinge and the burning starts again, this time in his thighs.

Taekwoon might be speaking. Sanghyuk can’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears.

Sanghyuk captures Taekwoon’s wrist as he’s speaking. The thought of danger slams around his head to the beat of what little blood he has left pounding through his skull. It’s been so long since he’s gone this long without feeding.

Taekwoon scowls at him but doesn’t pull away. He only stares, as if daring Sanghyuk to do something he’ll regret.

Lust thrums within him again, like the reverberating sound of a drum. Baring his fangs, Sanghyuk licks his lips without breaking the glare between them, watches Taekwoon mirror the action. 

Bright red pigment bleeds into Taekwoon’s irises, slow, striking. “Choose your next actions very carefully, baby vampire.”

Sanghyuk releases his grip on Taekwoon’s wrist. Taekwoon leaves it hanging where it was for a few moments before he slowly pulls his arm back to himself. The red in his eyes is gone.

Regret washes through him, and his mind is once again his own. Embarrassed, he shifts in his seat and thinks of all the ways he should apologize, but the words are caged behind his dry mouth and heavy tongue.

Taekwoon turns back to him from the fridge and places two blood packs in his lap. Sanghyuk wastes no time; he tears one open with his fangs and pours it down his throat, head leaned back, neck exposed. He does the same with the other, groaning both at the putrid taste and the way it calms the fire in his veins. Blood runs out the side of his mouth, down to his jaw and down to stain the collar of his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he says through a gasp. “I was so hungry.”

“My fault,” Taekwoon mutters. “I should have given the packs to you straight away. Then again, I would have thought you’d be better fed.”

The taste of Hakyeon seems to linger in the back of his throat. Taekwoon knows. Before he can speak, Taekwoon sets the deck of tarot cards on the arm of the chair, almost reluctantly, as if Sanghyuk might reject the offer.

“You left them,” he says, quietly. Standing, he leaves Sanghyuk abruptly to sit at the desk with the open books. ”You should go. I have work to do.”

The sting of rejection pierces his heart. He wants to stay here, to feel close to home, to help with Hongbin’s cure. He wants to stay near Taekwoon, to be in his company even if it’s a compatible silence. The realization flows over him slowly, like being covered by a blanket.

Sanghyuk picks at the threads of the armchair. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?”

“Translate the books I gave you.”

“Can I do it in here?”

“No.” Taekwoon flips a page in his book, not bothering to look at Sanghyuk.

Sanghyuk stands. “I guess I’ll just… go back to my room then.”

“That would be for the best.”

As Sanghyuk leaves, he plucks a couple of leaves off the basil plant. He tucks them in his front pocket, and decides the cards are too important to stuff in his jeans. Emotions tumble inside his head, but growing larger by the minute is the frustration that no one here tells him anything of consequence when it comes to the enigmatic Taekwoon.

He faces the corridor to the east wing, seeing it a little more clearly in the early morning light. The third stained glass window from him is shattered, letting most of the leaf-filtered light through. Roses burst through the hole, swaying in the slight wind. Ivy crawls across the pointed ceiling. Beautiful as it is, the sight gives him a sickly baleful lick up his spine.

He turns away, taking a deep breath, feeling a pressure on his chest. It takes a moment to remember his previous train of thought. If Taekwoon won’t tell him anything, maybe Hongbin will--if only because he’s usually delighted to disobey his brother.

Sanghyuk finds him in the billiard room, playing with a deck of cards, grunting to himself. His white sweater is rolled to his elbows and his black jeans are cuffed at the ankle. The wheelchair Hongbin is sat in startles him. He tries to recall seeing Hongbin walk--yes, at dinner, although it was never far and without someone’s unsolicited help.

“My legs get very weak,” Hongbin says, surprising Sanghyuk out of his memory.

“How are you feeling other than that?” Sanghyuk asks, lingering in the doorway.

“I’m dying, Sanghyuk, I feel like shit.”

He says it so matter-of-fact, so emotionless, and his aura reflects the same.

“Taekwoon can’t let this primitive mansion go, so it's like walking a football field anywhere I want to go.”

Smiling to himself at the hostility in Hongbin’s voice, Sanghyuk joins him at the table. The shelves behind Hongbin are filled with every board game Sanghyuk has ever played, and also the ones he hasn’t. Ones he’s never heard of.

“How did you guys end up here?” Sanghyuk asks.

Hongbin screws up his face, continuing to play his game of solitaire and smacking his gum. “A family heirloom. A boring one.”

“You can move the queen--” Sanghyuk starts, pointing to the cards.

“I know what I’m doing.” Hongbin slaps his hand away. He doesn’t move the queen.

“Speaking of family,” Sanghyuk says, cringing at his own segue. “Why aren’t you a demon, like your brother?”

Hongbin freezes in the act of drawing a card. There’s challenge in his eyes, danger, an impending threat in the midst of his otherwise lovely visage. A spike of fear runs through Sanghyuk, but then the look is gone and Hongbin resumes drawing his card.

“You’re asking dangerous questions.” Hongbin leans back in his chair, eyes bright. “But I could be persuaded to answer them.”

“Persuaded...” Sanghyuk wrings his hands under the table. “How?”

Hongbin makes a clicking sound with his tongue. “Wipe that stupid look from your face, I’m not going to make you suck my dick.”

Sanghyuk flushes, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Unless you want to.” Hongbin gives him a wicked grin.

“I--”

Hongbin laughs, a pure, resonant sound compared to the look he was just giving. “You’re so cute. No wonder Hakyeon jumped you the first chance he got.”

“He didn’t  _ jump _ me.”

“Right.” Hongbin blows a bubble and pops it. “I meant, let’s play a game. You know 20 questions? It’s like that. Only I can tell if you’re lying and I want detailed answers. If you lie or bore me I’ll tell Taekwoon you came to me for the answers you couldn’t get from him.”

Sanghyuk narrows his eyes. He has sorely underestimated Hongbin, his capabilities and his personality both. Hongbin is sharp as a knife in every sense of the word, and Sanghyuk never imagined he would get cut. Hongbin’s devilish smile is back as he absently plays with his curls.

“Fine.” Sanghyuk smiles back, as sweetly as he can manage. “But I can tell if you’re lying, too.”

Hongbin stacks his cards neatly. “The truth is much more fun.”

“I’m going first. Why aren’t you a demon?”

Hongbin collects a paper and pencil from somewhere on the other side of the window. He draws a column for himself and one for Sanghyuk, putting a tick mark under the later.  “You’re really going to have to phrase your questions better than that. I’m not a demon because I’m human, I’ve always been human, it’s as simple as that.”

“That’s not fair, you know what I meant.”

Hongbin only hums in a meaningless fashion, more like he’s bored. Then he calls loudly for Larkspur, who comes trotting into the room only a few moments later. Hongbin whispers sweetly to her, scratching her chest and stroking behind her ears.

“I need you to tell me if Sanghyuk lies to me, okay girl?”

Larkspur sits and whines slightly, her tail wagging across the persian rug.

“Good puppy.” Hongbin looks down at his paper and smiles. “My turn. What’s it like being an empath?”

Sanghyuk pauses, staring at the large pool table behind Hongbin. He wasn’t expecting any questions like this. How could he explain it to someone that doesn’t experience it?

“It’s… overwhelming.” Sanghyuk glances back to Hongbin, who seems genuinely interested. “Imagine you’re a cup that’s full and everyone else keeps pouring their own water into it. I’m always being pushed over that edge. Almost like a perpetual discomfort. Auras are distracting and always reading people, it’s--”

Sanghyuk licks his lips, trying to think of how to put the rumbling feeling inside his chest into words.

“Powerful?” Hongbin asks.

“No.” Sanghyuk shakes his head. “I mean yes, I suppose it is. But it’s lonely, too. I feel like I miss out on something special, on all the revelations that come with getting to know people. I know how people feel before they tell me. I know when they’re lying, which is distressingly often. Sometimes ignorance can be bliss.” He sighs. “This sounds petty.”

“I think I get it,” Hongbin says. “It’s like finding out none of your presents are wrapped on Christmas morning.”

Sanghyuk hums in thought. “Something like that, yeah.”

“Alright, that was a pretty good answer. It’s your turn.” 

A mark on Hongbin’s side of the paper. He sits primly, hands clasped and elbows on the table, waiting for Sanghyuk to speak. Sanghyuk knows he has to be careful about how he words things, but no matter what, he know it’s going to take a few questions. Oh, what the hell. He’s got twenty tries, doesn’t he?

“Has Taekwoon always been a demon?”

Hongbin smirks. “Hmm, you’re getting warmer. No, he hasn’t. He used to be human, just like me. We were born three years apart, him being older, unfortunately.” He scrunches his face. “He acts like I’m as young as I look.”

A flood of new questions enter Sanghyuk’s mind, but his turn is over, and Hongbin is already looking wolfish.

“What’s it like drinking someone’s blood? Is it as sexual as it seems?”

“That’s two questions.”

“Come on,” Hongbin says through a whine. “Forget the game, I thought we were having good conversation.”

Sanghyuk realizes he can’t argue that fact--he hasn’t sat and talked to anyone like this in ages, and it feels nice, even if Hongbin’s presence keeps him on the edge--and so he gives into the question.

“It isn’t sexual--”

Larkspur barks, and Hongbin sighs while he places another tick mark, this time at the edge of the page. “That’s one lie. I’ll let you have three strikes, because you’re cute.”

“That isn’t what I meant,” says Sanghyuk, clearly frustrated. “To say that it’s sexual is to reduce it. The urge is greater, as it’s an absolute need, and it’ll drive us crazy if we don’t get it. The intimacy is similar, or it can be if you make it. Some vamps just want to kill.”

“Have you ever been one of those vamps?”

“Yes.”

Hongbin raises an eyebrow and cocks his head to the side, as if he’s both intrigued and doesn’t quite believe him.

“When I suck blood--when there’s that connection and pull instead of just lapping it up like a wild animal--I can see my victim’s memories. I lose myself and become them, for a moment in time.”

“Interesting. Is this part of your gift? This doesn't happen to other vampires?”

Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, Sanghyuk tries not to focus on his loneliness, on how maybe if he had a chance to know other vampires, he could properly answer the question. “How many questions are you going to get?”

“Fine, fine.” Hongbin twirls his hand with the pencil in the air. “Your turn.”

“How old are you and Taekwoon?”

Scratching his chin, Hongbin looks down at the table. He chews on his bottom lip, and for the first time Sanghyuk can see beyond his confident facade.

“We're about a century old, give or take.”

“How are you still alive?”

“Taekwoon's magic. Don't ask me what he did. I don't even think he meant to do it. In looking for a cure to my curse, somewhere along the way one of them must have done something to my aging process. Taekwoon knows the details better. It's something like my cells not getting shorter every time they divide.”

Hongbin barely has time to blink before he moves on. “Why are you attracted to my brother?”

“ _ What? _ ”

“Don’t ask questions, it’s not your turn.”

“But I’m not attracted to him.”

Larkspur barks, and Hongbin graces Sanghyuk with a sly smile. “Strike two. Now answer the question.”

“I--” Sanghyuk feels his face getting hot. Sure, Taekwoon is  _ pretty _ , but there's a big difference between being attractive and finding someone attractive. There's so much more that goes into it than looks. He feels Taekwoon's soft thumbs on his knee, his elbows.

_ Does _ he find Taekwoon attractive? Sanghyuk stares at Larkspur like she's betrayed him.

“I guess… we have a lot in common.”

“I said your answers couldn't bore me.”

Sanghyuk bites his lip. “There's a certain… loneliness to being a witch. I think you've seen it in him. It's gotten worse lately.” He looks down at his hands, worrying them against the edge of the table. “I think I understand him in a way no one else here can. Or I could… if he'd let me.”

Hongbin stares at him for so long that it begins to make him uncomfortable, crawling across his skin like a physical touch. “Yeah, he's like that.”

Hongbin continues, “Do you believe in fate?”

“It's my turn again,” says Sanghyuk. “How did Taekwoon become a demon?”

Hongbin crumples the paper in front of him. “The game is over.” He looks intense, shades of his brother Sanghyuk has never seen in him before. I'll tell you what you really want to know. Better yet, I'll  _ show  _ you. If you promise me one thing.”

“What's that?”

“If Taekwoon can’t find a cure… will you turn me?”


	6. Ferns and Lilies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The curse explained

Sanghyuk thinks Hongbin is playing a joke on him at first, the same needles and jabs he's been performing at the expense of his vampirism since he arrived. But his pointed grin never comes. There's only a desperation in his expression as he searches Sanghyuk's face.

“I...I don't know what to say.” Sanghyuk says.

Hongbin wheels himself around the table and over to Sanghyuk's side, and if his goal was to showcase his gaunt frame as an exclamation point, it worked. “It's a yes or no question.”

“Your brother told me he'd rather see you dead.”

The naked emotion on Hongbin's face is new, and Sanghyuk feels like he shouldn't be seeing it, the mix of surprise and hurt; an old, deep hurt, a bruise that perhaps Sanghyuk unknowingly pressed upon.

“I'm sorry,” Sanghyuk says. “I shouldn't have said that.”

“It's fine.” Hongbin runs his fingers along the large wheel, staring at them as if lost in thought. Then, looking back up, says, “But my brother doesn't speak or choose for me.”

Sanghyuk nods, not trusting himself to do much else. He's never turned anyone before. Sure, he  _ knows _ how, he watched his maker do it to him, but to do it to another… the thought sends a shiver through him. Hongbin's aura is churning in anticipation, flowing much like the blood he's asking for.

The information isn't worth that much, he knows this. But if Hongbin is to be saved and there is no other way--well, it almost seems logical. And it seems unfair for a house full of immortals to tell him to die instead.

The only problem is that the bond between them would be forever, and the burden would mostly be on him. He'll always be aware of Hongbin, be able to sense him down to the room. When Hongbin thinks of him, it will be like a weight on his shoulders, a gravity pulling them together.

And Sanghyuk would never be like his maker, bite and run. He wouldn't abandon Hongbin until he was sure he knew who and what he was, so far as Sanghyuk could teach him. He's not even sure he could bare to part after that. My god, was he really considering this?

Hongbin is a picture of patience, the only thing giving his impatience away are his eyes darting frequently from the door to Sanghyuk.

“Tell me everything, first.” Sanghyuk says, and suddenly feels like an anchor dropping to the bottom of the sea.

“I told you, I can do better than that.” Hongbin makes a rolling motion with his hands, and it's impatient, like Sanghyuk is supposed to know what it means. “Help me up. We're going to the East wing.”

For all the fear and anticipation Sanghyuk has built up about the East wing, he and Hongbin simply walk through the corridor as if it were a normal part of the house. No magic, no apprehension, no wards. Perhaps it’s because he’s with Hongbin that he doesn't feel them this time.

It's some time early in the afternoon, and the light illuminates the shattered painted glass and the roses that thrust forth from it. It's still a sight he's drawn to,  magically, and he knows something happened here, something big, something bad. Hongbin pulls him right past as if it's a sight he's used to.

Beyond the corridor is another hallway, not unlike the west wing in layout, but older in architecture and musty with unuse. Hongbin tells him not to bother looking for a light switch, there isn't one. He can see enough from the light filtering in from the stained glass windows on the north wall: thick layers of dust and spiderwebs adorn every lamp, candleholder and portrait in the hallway.

A very pratical--that is, mundane and not magical--sense of dread comes over Sanghyuk. He stops both of them, hauling Hongbin closer over his shoulders. “Where are we going?”

“Taekwoon's room.”

Sanghyuk chuckles nervously, then sees that Hongbin is serious. “Wait--what?”

“It's that door at the end of the hall.” Hongbin points toward the only door that looks used, still old and broken-down, but devoid of as much dust and cobwebs as any part of the area.

“Why is this place so dirty?” Sanghyuk asks. “Why isn't it renovated like the rest of the castle? Why hasn't--”

“Its not a castle, stop saying that. All of your answers are inside,” Hongbin says. “Let's  _ go _ , this dust is awful for my lungs.”

“You have  _ towers _ .” Sanghyuk stops before the door and looks over his shoulder. “What if Taekwoon--”

“Shut up.” Hongbin shifts his weight and moves forward to turn the knob and push the door open. “He won't.”

“How do you know?”

“I happen to know he he's hunting for demon heart this afternoon.”

The old door swings open and Hongbin and Sanghyuk step inside. The room lacks the same light fixtures of the hallway, but the four large, open windows on the far wall illuminate the room with the grey light of the overcast day. A huge canopy bed is set before them, it's fine white canopies swaying with the breeze across the old stone floor.

The scent of sandalwood hangs lightly in the air, fuming from a standing incense burner next to a large wooden table set against the wall of windows. Far to the right, more translucent drapes section off a balcony.

Sanghyuk feels soothed, as if he's stepped into another time, in another world. He wants to throw off his shoes and feel the uneven rock beneath his toes, to crawl onto the bed and watch the canopies sway, to listen to the sound of the wind through the leaves. He wants to spend time alone here. Alone. Or maybe with Taekwoon.

Hongbin pulls him toward an intricately carved wooden chair, plushed with a dark silver velvet design. Sanghyuk helps lower him into it, wondering again at how easy to would be to take all of his troubles and pains away with his blood gift.

As he rights himself he sees it, hiding in the shadows: an old black piano, fall board left open to reveal the yellowing keys, and candleholders flanking the body. Sheet music is laid out in front of it, and he itches to go to it and see it, to play it.

“Not today, Beethoven,” says Hongbin. “Someone will hear.”

Sanghyuk replies with a thoughtful hum.

“Over there.” Hongbin points his chin toward the table near the bed. “Go to it.”

Sanghyuk approaches the table, close enough to see its contents: sprigs of lemon balm, a pair of wire cutters, a single candle, a stack of old photographs. Finally, on the far left, a large wooden box with twin vertical doors. Just now Sanghyuk realizes that it glows with a faint blue light from the seams and an even fainter humming sound.

“Taekwoon and I are both cursed,” Hongbin says.

Sanghyuk turns back to him. “What?”

Hongbin licks his lips. His hands are on his knees, shoulders up, and he looks so small.

“Open the box.”

Hands unsteady, Sanghyuk pulls at the tabs on the wooden doors. Floating inside is a small skull, the size of his fist. The faint blue light shines through its eyes and nose.

“When we were younger… Taekwoon wasn't like he is now.”

The seriousness in Hongbin's tone hits Sanghyuk and makes him take a step backward.

“He was a good witch. Too good. But more importantly, he was too curious. He wanted to know what everything did, how things reacted. And if you want to know the truth, I think he loved the power.”

“He didnt care about other people back then. Not me, not anyone. He only cared about his magic. He taught himself most of what he knew until he couldn't anymore… then he had a master just like you.”

“I never liked her. But she was powerful, and that's all that Taekwoon could see. That's why he hates other demons so much now, why he goes out of his way to eat the bad one's hearts. Cause they're obsessed with the power. I think he thought you were like that at first.”

Their first meeting plays through Sanghyuk's mind as if it were someone else's memories. The goblin's engorged heart in Taekwoon's soft hands. He never thought to ask…

“She had a little sister.” Hongbin's voice comes quieter now. “She was nineteen, but a very young nineteen, and she cared for Taekwoon. Taekwoon used her. Over and over. He was using her for rituals, potions, anything he wanted she'd give. But back then, there weren't safe ways to do it.”

Sanghyuk takes a few more steps backward and sits on the edge of the bed. “You're talking about blood, aren't you?”

“Yes, that's the part that fucked everything up. The blood. He's never been good at patience, or pacing himself. You see how he is now. He'll barely take a nap.”

Sanghyuk frowns. “He does seem rather voracious.”

“Voracious, that's a nice word for it. Greedy bastard is more the truth of it. She was bound to catch infection eventually, and she did, several times before they were caught. Knowing a witch has its perks I guess.”

“But then she caught a magic infection. Taekwoon swears he knew nothing about their existence and I believe him, though I hate to say it… I don't believe it would have stopped him.

“She died, her fever was inhumanely high. God knows what it would have been if we could have measured it. I don't… I don't remember her name.”

Hongbin looks down into his lap where he's wringing his hands. His guilt stings Sanghyuk's sides.

“The witch said she was done with Taekwoon, and it wasn't like she could prove he'd done anything without putting herself in immense danger. I thought that was the last we'd see of her.”

His voice cracks on the last few words and Sanghyuk feels his chest squeeze. He wants to go to him, but he feels like maybe this is something Hongbin needs to get through for his own good.

Hongbin waves his hand in the air. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.”

“She waited until I was nineteen.” Hongbin laughs bitterly. “It wasn't hard for someone like her to cast a freezing spell on the guards and find us studying together. We were in the library. The way she toyed with Taekwoon and he couldn't do anything to defend himself…” Hongbin puts his hands over his ears, “I'll never forget the noises he made.”

“But then his nose started to bleed and it was purple and his eyes were red. She called him all sorts of things, but when she called him a demon she laughed and laughed. Then she set that skull on his chest, her sister's skull, of all things. She says the blue light is Taekwoon's human soul, but I don't know about that. I do know that it's fading, and that if he doesn't break the curse before it fades completely, he'll be a demon forever.”

“How does he break it?”

Hongbin clears his throat. “He has to learn to love someone more than his practice.”

“That's ridiculous! He loves Hakyeon.”

Hongbin purses his lips.

“Well, he loves you.”

Hongbin scratches his arm. “ _ More than his practice  _ were the operative words.”

Sanghyuk sits back, stunned. “I can't believe--”

“I'm not done.” Hongbin is staring at him intensely.

Realization crawls across Sanghyuk's skin. “Your curse is tied to the skull, too, isn't it?”

“Punishing Taekwoon wasn't enough. She wanted him to feel what she felt. His younger sibling suffering, and ultimately, dying. So yes. That's why we don't have any time left.”

Sanghyuk takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as if he were blowing out a candle. For the first time he wonders how deep the curse runs, how intricate it was cast, and if vampirism would even save Hongbin from a horrible fate.

Hongbin sits rigid in the chair, lost in memory.

“I'll do it,” Sanghyuk says. “If he can't find a cure.”

Hongbin scoffs. “Don't say yes because you pity me.”

“I don't pity you. It makes sense. Also I just… I did something bad myself once. And I think this can atone for it, in a way.”

Sanghyuk rubs his arm and looks back at the skull, avoiding Hongbin's eyes.

“Thank you, Sanghyuk. You've done nothing but give to me selflessly sense you've been here and I don't know why. Maybe it's forgiveness you're looking for but whatever reason, thank you.”

Sanghyuk stares at Hongbin, imagining how beautiful he'd be as a vampire, those sharp dimples paired with four sharp fangs, the flushed golden skin he'd seen from the photo. They'd be tied together forever. Deeper than friends, closer than family. That's how the bond is supposed to work.

Which means he'd be tied to Taekwoon forever. He'd be tied to this place, presumably, forever. Sparks of fear and delight wash through him.

Sanghyuk realizes he's been staring in thought for too long. “Yeah, no problem.” The words fall awkward and stilted between them.

There's a silence during which a wind passes from the balcony, making the canopies billow out and dry leaves skitter across the floor. There's something about the balcony, drawing Sanghyuk toward it to look out upon the courtyard. At the same time it seems forbidden--this is not his place; it's Taekwoon's.

“There's going to be a storm,” Hongbin says. “I always feel it in my joints.”

“We should go. I think I've invaded enough of Taekwoon's privacy for the day.”

Hongbin smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. “Regretting it?”

Sanghyuk shakes his head, wanting Hongbin to know how much he means what he says. “Not that I know. Only that he wasn't the one that told me.”

Wrinkling his nose, Hongbin stands up. “Ew, you  _ do  _ like him.”

Sanghyuk smiles to himself as he slips back under Hongbin's arm. Together they move soundlessly back through the East wing.

“You never told me why the East wing is like this,” Sanghyuk says.

“The library used to be on this wing, right there,” Hongbin points at one of the doors as they walk. “That's where it happened. At first I just avoided it from fear, you know. But then Taekwoon got weird about it, and wouldn't let anyone inside. He wouldn't let Hakyeon touch it when he got here and did the renovation, or clean it. I feel like he's stuck back there in a way.” Hongbin's voice lowers. “He lives in the past, almost literally.”

“It's not your fault.” Sanghyuk grips Hongbin's shoulder the slightest bit tighter.

Hongbin's eyes shine. “He does nothing but work for me.”

“Hey! He's fixing his mistake.” Sanghyuk wishes Hongbin would look at him. “He must love what he's doing, or wouldn't his spell be broken?”

“I never thought--” Hongbin's head snaps up and his wide eyes make Sanghyuk absorb his panic. “Someone's coming.”

Uncurling himself from Sanghyuk's hold, Hongbin pushes him around the corner and back into the stained glass hallway. Sanghyuk can hear him limping away, back toward where they came, and he means to call for him, but--

“Sanghyuk.”

He knows the voice belongs to the phoenix immediately, his heart pounding against his chest. He turns to face Wonshik, who is standing with his hands folded near the beginning of the hallway, in a tan three piece suit.

Sweat forms at his temples. “Uh… hey. Wonshik.”

“May I ask what you're doing so close to the East wing?”

“I just,” Sanghyuk raises his hands to the roses and dozens of browned white petals fall to the carpet, “saw these roses and couldn't resist. It's been a long time since I've seen outside.”

A small eyebrow quirks over the rim of Wonshik's gold-rimmed glasses. “If it's all the same to you, I'd much rather show you the conservatory.”

“Y-yeah?” Sanghyuk gulps. “Jaehwan told me you take care of it.”

His aura billows out and softens. “Did he? I would rather say we do it together. I can't take all the credit.”

“Well!” Sanghyuk says, and claps loudly, making Wonshik jump. “Let's go see the fruits of your love.”

“Please don't call it that,” Wonshik says, leading Sanghyuk toward the stairs. At the bottom, he directs Sanghyuk to the right with an outstretched hand.

“Actually,” Wonshik says, “I'm happy to have run into you. I've wanted to apologize.”

The way Wonshik walks is all confidence: perfect posture, slow and steady stride, hands behind his back. But his words sound less than sure.

“For what?”

“Jaehwan informed me that I might have come across as rude during our first meeting. 'Invasive’ I believe was the exact term. Did you feel that I was acting this way?”

Sanghyuk rubs his hands on his jeans. “It felt like you didn't like me for some reason.”

“Oh.” Wonshik stops walking and his hand comes to cover his heart. “I'm so sorry. That was never my feeling or my intention. I simply wanted you to feel welcome and a part of the conversation.”

“It's okay I guess,” Sanghyuk says with a half-smile. “You're kind of an anachronism, aren't you?”

“Aren't we all?” Wonshik asks, starting to walk again.

Sanghyuk hums as they pass through the kitchen. “I guess you're right.”

They pass a small, tiled hallway which Sanghyuk is almost sure leads to 'the dungeon'--he shivers with the memory of the hot, purple blood--and beyond that is a simple wooden door that Wonshik stops before turning the handle.

“I think you're going to like this,” Wonshik says, and opens the door into a view of pure green and fading sunlight.

Truth be told, Sanghyuk hadn't really known what a 'conservatory' was. Something to do with plants, he was sure--maybe like a greenhouse. But this, this is so  much more.

The walls and ceiling are nothing but glass and interlocking black wood, making the varying shades of greenery pop. Heavy wrought iron lanterns hang low--eye level--down the middle of the room and climbing ivy from the ceiling has begun to crawl down their chains.

The centerpiece, a stone fountain of three nymphs dancing in a circle, holding hands and smiling, gurgles softly. It's a stark contrast from anything you'd see inside of the castle.

Potted ferns and lilies are strategically placed and abundant around the simple matching furniture, and morning glory crawls along the walls offering it's sweet purple flowers. The sharp evening colors of pink and orange slant through the vines from the west.

His eyes finally settle on Jaehwan, cozy in one of the chairs near a lamp with a notebook and a pen. He's smiling at them warmly, his eye smile just as welcoming as anything else in the room.

Jaehwan raises both his hands in the air and wiggles his fingers. “You've brought Sanghyuk!”

Placing a very warm hand on Sanghyuk's back, Wonshik guides him through the plants and across to the faerie. Before, the hand might have felt distrustful or condescending, but if he thinks he understands Wonshik now, it's simply a matter of strange politeness.

Sanghyuk takes the linen couch to Jaehwan's right, assuming that the chair directly next to him should be meant for Wonshik. He is correct, and Wonshik claims Jaehwan's hand as soon as he's seated. Their auras blur and interlace, settling together immediately. It prods at the loneliness that Sanghyuk has been starting to forget here.

Jaehwan swats Wonshik's hand. “Did you apologize?”

“Yes.”

“It's really fine,” Sanghyuk says. “Just a misunderstanding.”

“I'm afraid I do have to be invasive about just one more thing, though…”

“Wonshik!” Jaehwan snaps.

Looking straight into Wonshik's eyes, he sees the same confidence and challenge, but there's no animosity. He waits patiently with Jaehwan's hand in his lap.

He's going to regret this. “It's alright. You can ask. I can't promise I'll answer.”

Wonshik takes off his glasses and sets them on the table next to Jaehwan's notebook. “What did you really do in the East wing?”

Jaehwan turns to him in horror. “Oh no, no.” He shakes his head. “There is no answer to that question that’s good.”

“I was in Taekwoon's room.”

Jaehwan gapes at him; Wonshik merely raises both of his eyebrows.

Eventually, Jaehwan's shock melts into a soft giddiness. “You and Taekwoon?”

“There is no me and Taekwoon.”

They both look at him with a kind of pity, Wonshik hiding it far better than Jaehwan, whom he can feel it coming from.

He feels terrible leading them astray, lying by omission, and he's sure if anyone finds out eventually it will be Wonshik--but he can't betray Hongbin's trust after what he just did for him. Considering what they might become.

Sanghyuk scratches the back of his neck. “I don't think there ever will be. He doesn't seem to want me around half the time.”

Wonshik clears his throat. “Not to be crass, but I don't think he wants anyone around half the time. That's part of his personality you'll have to accept if you want to be with him.”

“Hakyeon doesn't have to,” Sanghyuk mumbles.

“Aw, Hyukkie. Are you jealous?” Jaehwan pats his leg.

“Hakyeon and Taekwoon have been here longer than any of us.” Wonshik says. “And you know that Hakyeon has a way with people.”

“So you're telling me to be patient.”

Wait. This is all a lie, just a cover for Hongbin. Why is he so invested in what Wonshik thinks?

“Actually, I'm telling you the exact opposite. Patience isn't what's going to get to Taekwoon right now and you can offer him more than Hakyeon can in these last few days.”

“Yeah?” Sanghyuk knits his brows. “Like what?”

Wonshik smiles. “Jaehwan has assured me that you're a lot alike.”

Sanghyuk rolls his eyes. “That's not vague.”

Taekwoon barrels through the door. “Sanghyuk!”

_ Fuck.  _ Sanghyuk stands up like a shot. _ He knows, he knows, he knows. _

The demon takes long, practiced strides to the sitting area. “Why aren't you in your room? Fuck, I’ve been searching everywhere for you.”

“I havent--I mean I didn't--”

There is no red anger in Taekwoon's eyes. There is fear.

“He's rejecting everything I give him. I need more of your blood, now, as much as you can give.”

_ Taekwoon used her. Over and over. He was using her for rituals, potions, anything he wanted she'd give. _

Sanghyuk feels sick, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What can we do?” asks Wonshik, standing fluidly behind him.

“Go, keep him company. He's weak but for all I know he'll try to run off again. He overexerted himself today.”

Sanghyuk closes his eyes, knowing he left Hongbin to suffer through getting back to his chair alone.

“Is he going to be okay?” Sanghyuk asks in a small voice.

Taekwoon stares at him like he wants to say something, like he has so very much to say--but instead he turns and rushes into the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could fit more Jaehwan and Wonshik into the story without it feeling too forced, because I did go through the exciting process of making them into full characters with back stories and all. So perhaps I'll think up a separate little series of drabbles for them or something n_n


	7. Make Me Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hakyeon helps Taekwoon forget, if only for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh enjoy?

It’s past midnight when Hakyeon comes to visit Taekwoon. 

Taekwoon is in bed, listening to the heavy sounds of the storm outside, but he has no allusions of finding sleep. He lies in only his bed shirt, with one arm behind his head and the other hand tracing the delicate swirls of wood in his headboard, mind far, far away.

He is going to fail Hongbin. He has been failing him for decades, his failures the sole catalyst for everything. But now, now he’s failing him for the final time.

How ironic that he is suffering the same symptoms that  _ she _ had; high fever, vomiting, confusion. Dare he say that is the point--to recreate her death so completely in Hongbin that Taekwoon would suffer just as his master had.

Taekwoon was going to lose Hongbin.

The tears sting his eyes and nose as he stubbornly keeps himself from weeping. Clenching his jaw and then his fists, he closes his eyes and shakes until the feeling passes, little by little letting go of the tenseness in his limbs.

It isn't until then that he notices Hakyeon lingering in his doorway, fingers curled around the doorframe and watching him, eyebrows together and head cocked in that slight way that means his heart hurts for someone else.

Taekwoon clears his throat to make sure his voice is steady. “You can come in.”

Hakyeon moves to step forward then hesitates, eyes sidelong as if he's just remembered something. “If you want to be alone I'd understand.”

“If I wanted to be alone I'd tell you to get the fuck out.”

He was aiming to make Hakyeon smile but he misses the mark, only a slight elongation of his lips come in response; still, Hakyeon slips inside and closes the door behind him.

As Hakyeon moves closer, the candlelight sweeps up his form and across his face, and the sight--a sight Taekwoon should be used to by now--blooms a softness in his chest, an ignition that has him almost fisting his hand into Hakyeon's shirt and pulling him down to bury his head in his chest, to release his pent up tears and plead with him to make everything better. Almost.

Hakyeon pushes the canopies aside to perch himself on the edge of the bed, right at Taekwoon's waist. He leans forward to reach across his body and slip his fingers into Taekwoon's hair, rubbing circles into his scalp. The magic seeps down into his pores, his jaw unclenches, his brow lifts.

Taekwoon grasps Hakyeon's arm and pulls himself up until they're sitting side-by-side, facing opposite ways. He keeps his fingers clenched in the pleated white silk, staring at the contrast between it and his fingers. White silk, airy and elegant, something he so deeply associates with the comfort of Hakyeon and his magics, clutched by his dirty, stained grip.

Hakyeon presses a hand on top of his. “What are you thinking?”

Shaking his head, Taekwoon lies his forehead against Hakyeon's shoulder. His voice breaks. “I tried so hard.”

“Oh, baby.” Hakyeon cradles Taekwoon by the waist and hair, drawing him farther into his side. “I know. He knows.”

“It doesn't matter.”

Hakyeon's warm hands cup Taekwoon's jaw to tear him away from his shoulder. His eyes are warm and intense, and they hold Taekwoon in place better than any grip. “It matters.”

A hot tear falls down Taekwoon's cheek and over Hakyeon's thumb.

“He's going to die,” Taekwoon says.

Hakyeon looks as heartbroken as Taekwoon feels. Pressing their foreheads together, Hakyeon runs his hand down Taekwoon's spine. “You did all that you could.”

Taekwoon loves Hakyeon's soft touch over his shirt, but he aches for more: not only the sharp flashes of white that sedate his pain, but something more intimate, something beyond touch, something they haven't shared in months.

“Hakyeon,” Taekwoon says, opening his eyes and looking into Hakyeon's, so close. He wants Hakyeon to understand what he wants, what he needs, without having to ask for it. “Please.”

Hakyeon kisses him, lazy and deep, lacing his magic through his tongue. Taekwoon sinks into it with his entire body, falling into Hakyeon like a leaf in the wind. He can't get close enough, pressing into Hakyeon's chest and breathing in his familiar lavender scent, letting so many memories it evokes flit by.

The siren pulls away to nuzzle at the column of his throat, allows his lips ghost against the skin there. “How do you want me, Taekwoon?”

Gentle, Taekwoon grasps Hakyeon's hand and guides it between his legs, over his balls, and presses his middle two fingers to his entrance.

In whisper he says, “Fill me up. Make me forget.”

Hakyeon stands, stripping. “Yes baby.” He crawls back on to the bed, straddling Taekwoon's lap.

The shirt Taekwoon wears is oversized and could easily be pulled over his head, but Hakyeon chooses to unbutton it instead, punctuating every button with a kiss, a lick to the lips. Hakyeon pushes the shirt off his shoulders and then he, too, is naked, both of them bared to each other. Taekwoon hates this feeling of vulnerability, always has, but with Hakyeon it's bearable, simply a necessary buzz in the back of his mind while he gets what he really wants.

Hakyeon places a hand on his sternum to push him down to the mattress. Taekwoon goes easily with the knowledge of what comes next. The palm of Hakyeon's hand glows a brilliant, cold white, like moonlight, illuminating them both and the canopies around them. He lowers it onto Taekwoon's chest and Taekwoon jerks with the sensation of being shocked before it fades into subtle euphoria. Biting his bottom lip, he sighs and closes his eyes.

Sliding his hand down slowly, past his stomach and stopping right before his cock, Hakyeon makes a sound of appreciation. The magic coalesces through Taekwoon's spine, expanding and contracting with his breaths. His heart beats it through his body, the glittering white ecstasy relaxing every muscle from head to toe.

Bending down, Hakyeon licks Taekwoon's nipple into his mouth, flicking the other with his magic-tipped thumb. It's such an intense feeling after the subtle, dreamy euphoria that Taekwoon's gasp is sharp and deep, and his hands fly to Hakyeon's shoulders.

Hakyeon shifts until he's between Taekwoon's legs and sits back on his haunches. His hands glow bright again and he grabs Taekwoon's hips, roughly massaging his fingertips. This time the magic surges straight to Taekwoon's cock and he arches, a cry ripped from his chest that's growing pinker by the minute. 

“God,” Hakyeon scrapes his nails along Taekwoon's thighs. “I love fucking you.”

“Yes,” Taekwoon breathes, rolling his hips up. He's magic-dazed, grabbing his cock and pumping it lazily. “Drawer.”

Hakyeon understands, wasting no time crawling past him to dig into the bedside table. “Blue or yellow?” he asks.

Blue tends to feel like tiny shocks of lightning, and Taekwoon doesn't feel like being overstimulated right now.

“Yellow,” Taekwoon says, running his fingers along the curve of Hakyeon's ass. Yellow is softer, it warms; yellow feels like sun on a summer day.

Hakyeon moves to kiss him again, more shallow this time and without magic. His lips do most of the work. “Are you ready?” He waves the little yellow dipper bottle in front of Taekwoon.

“Yes,” Taekwoon says, nodding his head. “Yes.”

Hakyeon is between his legs again, pulling a leg up and kissing his bony ankle. Taekwoon makes a small noise of protest and impatience--he wants Hakyeon inside of him any way possible. 

Hakyeon laughs, dropping the ankle to his shoulder. He switches his attention to the bottle, the yellow liquid pours glittering onto his fingers from the candlelight. Hakyeon lifts his fingers and scissors them so Taekwoon can see.

Taekwoon grunts, throwing his head back to the mattress. “Will you finger fuck me already?”

“What's your hurry?” Hakyeon purrs, his middle finger pushing against his hole, smearing lube around the rim. “Did you forget how I like it? Long,” he sucks a biting kiss into Taekwoon's thigh, “and slow.”

Taekwoon hadn't forgotten that Hakyeon loves foreplay. He prefers his partner to be a begging mess before he fucks them, has had Taekwoon in such a state many times. Taekwoon, on the other hand, knows how to use this.

Hakyeon's finger pushes inside him, and still relaxed from the magic, Taekwoon finds that he doesn't tense or clench. The liquid starts to warm immediately, slightly warmer than body temperature. He raises his hips to meet Hakyeon's hand, but it's nothing, nothing.

Taekwoon grasps Hakyeon's wrist as it moves. “More,  _ more _ .”

Hakyeon pulls his finger out and free from Taekwoon's grip, raises an eyebrow. With his other hand he slides a finger up Taekwoon's cock that curves up against his stomach. He slides it through Taekwoon's pre-cum then sucks it into his mouth, looking at Taekwoon expectantly.

“More  _ please _ .”

Two fingers now, and Hakyeon fucks him faster, doing things with his fingers that has Taekwoon pushing back and whining. He doesn't make him ask for three, and Taekwoon clutches the comforter and moans, finally feeling full. 

Once he finds Taekwoon's prostate, he massages gently with his fingertips, letting the smallest shocks of magic slip through. Taekwoon grips the fitted sheet and lifts himself up and down onto Hakyeon's fingers, yelling out his name. Sparks fly through his abs and down his thighs, but it's not enough, not what he wants; he wants Hakyeon's cock, wants to feel overwhelmed by him.

Hakyeon stops touching him altogether, making a show of rubbing what's left of the yellow bottle onto himself, fucking into his hand. Taekwoon feels himself salivate. Hakyeon has a good cock, a  _ pretty _ cock: long and decently thick, velvet and curved slightly. Fuck but he needs it. He's so empty.

Hakyeon kisses his way up Taekwoon's torso, tiny shocks of magic blooming from his lips, making Taekwoon shiver with want.

“Kitten,” Hakyeon says, hovering over him. “Beg for it.”

“Hakyeon… Hakyeon please. I'm so empty.” His hips involuntarily raise, as if to prove his point. “I need you inside me.  _ Now. _ Please. Oh, please don't make me wait--”

Hakyeon pushes inside, biting deep and harsh into Taekwoon's neck, an impulse leftover from when sex was a weapon and his teeth were razor-sharp. They moan in unison, Taekwoon much louder, and Hakyeon's teeth sink deeper. It's been too long, and his throat and ass both sting, but Taekwoon has always liked the pain. He locks his ankles around Hakyeon's back to pull him closer with his knees.

Giving him time to adjust, Hakyeon licks the teeth marks he's just made around Taekwoon's neck. Taekwoon takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, forcing himself to relax.

Hakyeon shifts his weight to his elbows, pressing their bodies together. He thumbs sweat-damp hair from Taekwoon's forehead. “Can I--?”

Grabbing Hakyeon's ass, Taekwoon lifts up to moan in his ear, “fuck me.”

His first thrust is short as he bites Taekwoon's bottom lip, pulling it up. He works his way to a delicious rhythm driving Taekwoon farther toward the headboard, and Taekwoon closes his eyes, reveling in the feeling of Hakyeon  _ everywhere _ .

“Deeper,” Taekwoon moans.

Hakyeon adjusts them in such a way that he does feel him harder, deeper, but it's just short of enough, it's never  _ enough _ . He needs more, he needs--

“Touch me,” Taekwoon breathes.

Hakyeon kisses him, all teeth and sparkling white tongue that sends fire down Taekwoon's thighs. “So needy, baby. Do you want to come?”

Taekwoon nods vigorously and whines, which prompts Hakyeon to growl and his fingernails to bite into Taekwoon's thigh harder. He knows what he must look like to Hakyeon, but he wonders if Hakyeon ever pictures himself, the predator that emerges when he has someone at his mercy.

Hakyeon squeezes the base of his cock and he arches into the touch, calling Hakyeon's name softly. Hakyeon slows his rhythm to match his hand pumping Taekwoon's cock.

“Do you ever think about Sanghyuk?”

Taekwoon's mind doesn't know what to do with that, but his hips stutter faster into Hakyeon's fist anyway.

“What?”

“I do.” Hakyeon's eyes are intense as his thrusts are long and lazy. “I think about you both at the same time.”

The backs of Taekwoon's thighs tingle with excitement, and his hand covers Hakyeon's on his cock, urging him to go faster.

Taekwoon licks his dry lips. “What--what do you think about?”

“We could worship you, kitten.”

This is wrong. It shouldn't be happening, Sanghyuk doesn't look at him like  _ that _ , but Hakyeon's voice is sweet and thick like honey, his hand warm and fast on his cock, and god help him but Taekwoon wants it.

“We could take turns sucking you off.” 

Hakyeon runs his thumb through the slit and around the underside of the head, and the warmth from the lube envelops him as if he already were inside someone's mouth.

No.  _ No.  _ “Yes,” Taekwoon urges him on. “So close.”

Taekwoon arches his neck back, blindly reaching out for anything. He finds Hakyeon's neck and hair and scratches, pulls. He doesn't know what to do with himself.

“Do you want him inside you, Taekwoon? He's so big. I bet he could fill you up better than I do.”

So close, so  _ close _ .

“Or maybe you want us both at the same time?”

And that coils something overwhelming in his gut. His body raises from the bed and tightens, and he's coming, yelling his agreement as Hakyeon continues to fuck him.

As he comes down, both exhausted and refreshed, he absently fingers designs on Hakyeon's back, but he can't bring himself to do much else to help him get off. All he can think about suddenly is how big Sanghyuk is, how heavenly that weight might feel on top of him.

“Can I,” Hakyeon pants, “c-come inside you?”

Taekwoon runs his fingers through Hakyeon's hair. “Yes.”

It isn't long before Hakyeon stills, and his face scrunches into a silent growl. He looks beautiful, as always, wet and panting and exhausted. Taekwoon loves the feeling, wishes Hakyeon would stay longer before he pulls out and rolls over.

After they're cleaned up, Hakyeon finds his hand in the dark and brings the back up to kiss it. “Was that okay?”

Taekwoon scoffs. “Since when are you insecure about your sexual prowess?”

“I meant talking about Sanghyuk.”

“Oh.”

Taekwoon doesn't want to leave Hakyeon with a silence, but he can't figure out what to say. He feels guilty for using the idea of Sanghyuk, but he also hasn't come that hard in a long time. Mostly he'd like to forget the image of Sanghyuk looking up at him through his eyelashes with his tongue on his cock which Hakyeon has so graciously placed into his head.

“I mean, as long as you know it's never going to happen,” Taekwoon says, yawning.

“I suppose not,” Hakyeon says, playing with Taekwoon's fingers, kissing the pads. “Go to sleep now. I'll check on Hongbin.”

“Make sure he has water,” Taekwoon mumbles, turning over.

Hakyeon pulls on his pants. “Yes, yes.”

“And a rag for his head. And--”

“I've got this Woonie.” Hakyeon leans over to kiss his cheekbone. “Get some sleep.”

The last thing he remembers is Hakyeon blowing out the candle.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Drink from Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanghyuk and Hakyeon talk it out; Taekwoon has a revelation for Sanghyuk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please mind the tags for violence & gore

Hakyeon doesn't sleep.

He spends the night alternating between the brothers’ rooms. Sitting in Hongbin's room, amidst the candlelight and clove smoke, he has too much time to think. Hakyeon has always prided himself on being the glue that holds their makeshift family together, doing whatever it takes, big or small, to keep everyone happy. Now he's being made to watch as it all falls apart.

He can't help Taekwoon, not really. His magic, his sex, is like a tourniquet on a severed limb--it can only help so much before it's useless like all the rest. That's how he sees it as he changes to a cold rag across Hongbin's forehead: helplessly watching someone bleed out.

Taekwoon isn't the only one losing a brother. They may not have blood between them but Hakyeon loves Hongbin as if they do, as if friendship isn't a strong enough word to reflect how he feels. The brothers were the first real family he had ever known, taking him in as a scared freeblood. They didn't just house him and feed him, they talked to him. Hongbin had  _ laughed  _ with him, and it felt as good as the embraces he would come to know much later.

Does he even have the right to be so affected by Hongbin's death? How many brothers has he carelessly taken from others, soaking sated in their blood as their families weeped and cursed their trusted gods?

Hakyeon shakes his head in his hands. No, that's selfish. This death isn't his karma and to take it on as such is a dishonor to Hongbin himself. Still, he can't help but feel no right to his sadness and anger.

As a new freeblood, Taekwoon had helped him control his desires. Or so he thought. Hakyeon never let Taekwoon know that the desire to kill never  _ really _ went away, only faded to the back of his mind like a phantom itch. And yet he had told Sanghyuk everything, cried in his arms about the monster that he knew he was inside.

Sanghyuk had comforted him so easily, so readily accepted the dark side that Hakyeon paints over day after day that it felt like he was unravelling, falling apart vulnerable and desolate into Sanghyuk's hands. Sanghyuk would piece Hakyeon back together if he had let him, and the idea is terrifying, to be on the receiving end of such devotion. That's his job, that's who  _ he _ is to his brothers, not the other way around.

A soft knock on the door brings him back to the opulent purple and gold room. He's afraid it will wake Hongbin, but his breath continues as slow as it had before. He doesn't feel like visitors, but this isn't his room and neither is it his death bed, so he forces himself from the armchair and opens the door.

A blushing Sanghyuk is behind the door. He looks freshly roused from sleep, hooded eyes and messy hair. His bare toes tap against the tile floor.

When Hakyeon says nothing, Sanghyuk places a hand on the door. “Can I come in?”

Hakyeon looks back at sleeping Hongbin and sighs, nodding to Sanghyuk and opening the door wide. Sanghyuk practically tip toes into the room, making Hakyeon want to smile. He doesn't. He shuts the door again and suddenly feels oppressed by the candlelit intimacy of the room.

“What are you doing here so late?” Hakyeon asks.

“The sun has been up for hours.” Sanghyuk reaches out to him, as if he were going to caress his face, but stops short and his eyes flutter to the ground. “Don't tell me you're not sleeping now, too.”

“I--” Hakyeon searches for a lie, but decides on the truth instead. Something about the way Sanghyuk is looking at him, a little lost, stops him from lying. “I lost track of time I guess.”

Sanghyuk nods as if he understands. He's standing at the foot of Hongbin's bed, hands shoved into his pockets and head ducked low.

“How is he?” Sanghyuk asks.

“I'm not sure how to gauge anything, but he's getting worse.” Hakyeon pauses to steady his voice. “His fever is dangerously high and showing no signs of breaking. His body is trying so hard to fight the magic, it's exhausting him completely.”

Hakyeon rests back into the armchair, folding his legs under him. Saying it out loud makes him feel even more helpless than before. His eyes sting with tears he won't let fall.

Sanghyuk leans against the bed, half sitting on it. Hakyeon can feel his attention, his scrutiny perhaps--he doesn't know because he won't meet his gaze.

“And how are you?”

Sanghyuk asks the question in a voice low and confidential. Hakyeon isn't prepared for the warmth it spreads across his body, making him feel safe, cared for. It isn't a simple greeting as he's heard countless times before, rather it is a door Sanghyuk has left open, giving Hakyeon the chance to walk through if he desires.

“I'm alright.” Hakyeon picks at a loose thread near his ankle. “Considering, you know.”

“I don't know how you can be.”

Sanghyuk wanders to the fireplace to stoke the fire. He places another log on top and wipes his hands. The silence stretches on and the itch Hakyeon has been feeling since Sanghyuk walked in grows larger and larger in his heart until finally he's opening his mouth, listening to his voice as if he's a passenger in his own body.

“I'm sorry for how I left things the other night.”

A shocked look passes over Sanghyuk's face before he can conceal it. He steps down and away from the mantle, glancing at the bed before moving slowly to kneel before Hakyeon. Tentatively he rests a hand on Hakyeon's knee and Hakyeon allows it, staring at his big, soft hand.

“I understand why you did it.”

Does he really understand? Hakyeon raises his eyes to Sanghyuk's and the warmth he finds there steals his breath away. His chest aches in a way he can't explain, and he takes a shaky breath through parted lips.

“I can be here for you when you need it,” Sanghyuk squeezes his hand atop Hakyeon's knee, “and leave you alone when you don't.”

Hakyeon can't look away. The vampire smiles but there's something else behind it, something deeper than the kindness in his eyes, something not-quite-predatory.

“Do you want to be alone, Hakyeon?”

Hakyeon feels the question thrum through his body. He feels so very alone, and he aches for Sanghyuk to take the feeling from him, to purge it from his body the same as he does the blood.

He remembers Sanghyuk's insistent tongue against his neck, the feeling of blood-sucking not unlike the burning spikes of arousal. He sees again how Sanghyuk had looked on top of him, caging him in. Hakyeon knows the empath can feel, if not  _ see _ his lust.

“No,” he chokes out, fighting fear and excitement all at once. “Please don't leave me alone.”

With his other hand, Sanghyuk guides Hakyeon down to him by the neck. The kiss is torturously delicate and lasts only long enough for Hakyeon to wish it were deeper.

Sanghyuk pulls away, keeping his hand on the back of Hakyeon's neck. “You asked me a question last time. You asked me how anyone could love someone like you.”

“Sang--”

He silences Hakyeon with another kiss, lapping his tongue across his bottom lip. He kisses it twice more, chaste and lingering. His eyes open and dart between Hakyeon's own.

“You're so easy to love, Hakyeon.”

Tears fall against Hakyeon's cheeks before he can stop them. He's trembling with the effort to keep himself together, forcing the rising sobs back down his throat. He couldn't stand it if anyone else saw him like this, but here before Sanghyuk he feels free.

“Shhhh.” Sanghyuk hushes him and presses a kiss to his forehead.

Hakyeon sniffs, wringing his hands in his lap. “We shouldn't be doing this here.”

“You're right.” Sanghyuk stands and offers his hand. “How about a bath?”

 

 

~ * ~

 

 

Sanghyuk leads him to his favorite room as though he knows how badly he needs it, only stopping once they're inside. He turns to Hakyeon and runs his hands down the sides of his neck and down his chest.

“Do you want your oils? Your flowers?”

Hakyeon shakes his head, still a little weepy. “I just want the water. And you.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Sanghyuk assures him.

He thumbs the wetness away from Hakyeon's cheeks. Dazed, Hakyeon looks up at him with a mixture of appreciation and hesitation. Sanghyuk reaches out to him, sliding his hand up his shirt and grasping his top button.

Every inch of skin he reveals, button by button, Sanghyuk kisses his way after. Leaning his head back, Hakyeon revels in the soft attention. After his shirt is pulled from his slacks and dropped to the floor from his arms, Sanghyuk hooks his fingers underneath his belt and pulls him in to kiss his neck, nibbling just the slightest to let him know his fangs are out.

Hakyeon breathes his name, sliding his hands down Sanghyuk's sides. His belt is slipped from around his waist and joins his shirt on the floor. The humid steam and Sanghyuk's heat combined press in on Hakyeon, overheating him, causing him to pant already.

Sanghyuk presses his palm against Hakyeon's half hard cock and kisses against his ear. “I want you in my mouth.”

Groaning deep in his throat, Hakyeon lifts his hips into Sanghyuk's hand. With his other, Sanghyuk tugs open Hakyeon's pants and shoves them down. He grabs Hakyeon's ass with both hands and hauls them together, chest-to-chest, making Hakyeon raise on his toes.

Sanghyuk buries his nose in the hollow of Hakyeon's collarbone. “God, you smell so good.”

Aching to feel skin against his own, Hakyeon sneaks his own hands under Sanghyuk's shirt and over the sensitive bumps of his abs. The muscles jump and flex, and the lips mouthing at his shoulder curve into a smile with a gasping laugh.

“I'm ticklish,” Sanghyuk explains, holding Hakyeon apart from him.

Slowly, Sanghyuk grasps the back of his shirt and lifts it over his head. He loses his jeans and underwear as well, and Hakyeon at last has the privilege of seeing his full, real form. Drawn to his thighs, Hakyeon rakes his fingernails up the sides, biting and pulling down on his bottom lip.

“Ah-- _ ahhh _ .”

Sanghyuk moans and then moans again, louder when Hakyeon grabs his cock and squeezes. He leads him to the water this way, backing up slowly and pumping his cock even slower. Hakyeon gives him one last smile, his most mischievous, then turns and descends the stairs into the warm bath until it's at his waist.

The water feels like home in a way the mansion never will, like being reunited with a part of himself. It's not as heady as the sea, but it smells much the same, and he finds himself relaxing muscles he didn't even know were tense.

“Will you bite me again?” Hakyeon asks, emboldened by the water around him.

Sanghyuk follows down the stairs after him. He wraps his arm around Hakyeon's waist and pulls him flush against his chest. The hard line of Sanghyuk's cock presses against his hip.

“Are you sure that's what you want?”

Hakyeon melts against him, both loving and fearing the softness in his eyes. Face pressed against Sanghyuk's shoulder, he takes a deep breath and lets it out, nodding. Underwater, his thumbs follow Sanghyuk's hip bones, up and down and back up again.

Sanghyuk guides Hakyeon's legs around his waist and carries him to the lip of the pool, depositing him on the smooth tile. He feels a thrill at the strength, realizing soon after that what he really likes is not being in control. He's so tired of planning and looking after things. He just wants to let go and not micro-manage the end result, for once.

Sanghyuk pulls his chin up for a deeper kiss, one that tastes of his desire.

“Are you ready for what I might see?”

Hakyeon feels safe here most of all. “I have nothing else to hide from you.”

Kneeling, Sanghyuk rests his face on Hakyeon's thigh, breathing deeply. “You always smell fresh, like the ocean.”

Hakyeon smiles, running his fingers through Sanghyuk's hair. “What do I taste like?”

“So sweet and so heavy.” His claws are out, and one of them presses into Hakyeon's thigh until it breaks the skin. “Like maple.”

Hakyeon seethes at the prick. Together they watch blood trickle down his thigh and into the water. Then his lips are around the wound, his tongue lapping against it. When he begins to suck it feels white-hot with pain and simmering with pleasure, and Hakyeon lifts his hips only to find them held in place by Sanghyuk.

His vision blurs, colors twisting together. Seagulls caw from high above him. Soft waves lap at his feet and sand is soft beneath him. He smells the acrid scent of seaweed, but stronger he smells blood. Fresh, unspilt blood.

Underneath him a man looks up at him as if he never wants to look away. Hakyeon is naked while the sailor's uniform is tattered, making it easier to hold him down--not that he needs to. The man isn't going anywhere.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, eyes glazed over. He reaches to tuck Hakyeon's hair behind his ear, and Hakyeon lets him, like a hunter waiting for its prey.

His fingers linger by Hakyeon's ear, and the siren grasps him gently by the wrist. His lips against the delicate skin, Hakyeon smiles a wicked, razor-toothed smile and wills his magic away, just as he bites into flesh.

The sailor's eyes focus in an instant, and he cries out, body jerking away instinctively. Unbothered, Hakyeon bites harder into the arm until he feels the exquisite crunch of bone.

Screaming profusely, the body under him shakes, and he can smell the distasteful scent of urine. The sailor's hand hangs off his forearm at a grotesque angle, and one last bite has it fallen to the ground beside him.

Raising the arm over his torso, he lets the blood flow freely down his chest before taking another bite. He revels in the feeling of sinewy muscle sliding between his teeth. More than that, he savors the heady feeling of ultimate dominance; to take the most precious thing this man will ever have to offer.

The image drains away and Hakyeon is back in the bathing room, Sanghyuk gasping between his legs. His vampire looks up at him intensely, pretty brown eyes black with lust.

“Fuck,” Sanghyuk groans, surging up and biting into Hakyeon's neck, puncturing multiple times. Blood slides down his chest and Sanghyuk licks it back up to the wounds. “I want you bathed in blood.”

The intensity of a kill still fresh in his mind, Hakyeon can't help but agree. He would let Sanghyuk drain him completely if that's what he wanted. Anything for Sanghyuk.

Sanghyuk glides down his body, following the trail of smeared blood until he reaches Hakyeon's cock. He takes hold of it and kisses the head. Hakyeon catches a flash of red fangs and has a second to panic before he's in Sanghyuk's mouth.

It lasts only a moment before he pulls off. Running his hand through the blood collecting on Hakyeon's stomach, he jerks him fast and hard, transferring the blood from his fist.

Sanghyuk sticks his tongue out and taps the head against it. He licks long stripes up the shaft, cleaning up the blood, never taking his eyes off Hakyeon's. Hakyeon has never felt this high, this turned on; helpless against the intensity, he fists Sanghyuk's hair and pulls as hard as he can.

“Hakyeon,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut. “Oh, Hakyeon. Come in my mouth.”

With his hands tangled in Sanghyuk's hair, Hakyeon doesn't have the proper leverage he wants to fuck up into his throat. It's so warm, warmer than anyone he's had before, and both blood and spit are trickling down Sanghyuk's chin as he works his lips, his tongue. The sight of him, the concentration in his stare is enough to make Hakyeon curl his toes, and as he hears Sanghyuk gag, he recognizes the familiar ache in his stomach.

“I'm gonna come,” Hakyeon whines. “Don't stop,  _ don't stop _ .” He pushes Sanghyuk's head farther down. He goes easily, choking on his cock over and over until Hakyeon stills with a shriek, releasing against the back of Sanghyuk's throat.

Hakyeon lies back on the tile, feeling deliciously spacey, as if he might dissolve into the water if he's not careful. He barely feels Sanghyuk lift out of the water and straddle him, but the wet sounds of Sanghyuk jerking himself off are all around him, making him shiver.

Suddenly Hakyeon's mind falls back to the night before.  _ I do. I think about you both at the same time.  _ Having been rejected only makes him want it more. He opens his eyes to the glorious image of Sanghyuk dripping wet, hovering over him, pumping his cock wildly.

Lazily Hakyeon runs his fingers across the still bleeding wound on his neck. He licks his middle two fingers into his mouth and tongues them, arching up as far as he can with Sanghyuk on top of him. It tastes like wet earth smells, but he's determined to put on this show for Sanghyuk. He moans around his fingers, looking up at him through his eyelashes.

“Fuck, Hakyeon, fuck,  _ fuck _ ,” he chants breathlessly.

“Come on me,” Hakyeon says, back to his commanding voice.

Sanghyuk nods over and over, and then his jaw hangs open, coming across Hakyeon's chest and whining his name in the most divine way. It fades into soft whimpers as he comes down, palm in place beside Hakyeon's ear. He stares down as if Hakyeon holds the secrets of the universe and he's eagerly waiting to hear them.

Hakyeon cups his cheek. Now Sanghyuk has seen the worst of him, really  _ seen _ how he made people suffer. Not only did he not abandon him, he appreciated it in a way Hakyeon would have never thought--a way that makes him wonder about Sanghyuk's past as well.

He heals Hakyeon's neck with a sloppy kiss, then moves to lick up his own come, together with the leftover blood. Kissing Hakyeon leisurely, he passes the bloody come to his mouth.

“Swallow.”

Hakyeon does as he's told, wrapping his arms around Sanghyuk's neck.

“God, you're so hot,” he whispers, inches away from Hakyeon's face.

Hakyeons smile grows bright, laughing lightly to himself.

Sanghyuk frowns. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says, but it isn't nothing. His magic has made men call him all sorts of things: beautiful, flawless, magnificent--but 'hot’ is a new one, and it sounds so wonderfully sincere in comparison.

 

 

~ * ~

 

 

Sanghyuk finds Taekwoon in his laboratory later that night. In his hands is a large chunk of rose quartz, which he turns over and over, sat in front of a laptop displaying some of Sanghyuk's translations. It's clear he isn't reading, though; his eyes are fixed high in the air, staring at nothing. When Sanghyuk enters he turns, an absent look on his face.

The fire in the mantle has died down, yet is still the only light in the room. The equipment for blood draws is nowhere to be seen, it's usual countertop littered with crumpled papers and dried blood.

“Taekwoon?”

“Yes?”

“It's time for my blood draw. Would you like me to uh… come back later?”

“That won't be necessary.”

Sanghyuk waits for an explanation, but it never comes. “So...later then?”

Taekwoon chuckles, a sad sound. “There's no use anymore. Your blood is useless.”

Sanghyuk is struck by that, feels cold in the light of the orange embers. Something about the atmosphere of the room is off. Taekwoon's aura is unusually slow, plodding around him like purple sludge. Sure he's always seemed brooding, but this feels hollow and defeated.

“My maker used to feed me his blood,” Sanghyuk says, stepping closer, “when I was still human.”

Taekwoon looks up as if he's surprised that he's still in the room. “That doesn't mean anything.”

Sanghyuk reaches the plush chair he usually sits in for his blood draws and pulls it next to the desk Taekwoon is at.

“Not for the reason he did it, no. But maybe the problem is in how you're administering the blood…”

Taekwoon glares at him. “It's not.”

“How do you know? There was a very specific way in which he fed me…”

“Enough. There's nothing we can do. Nothing. You're not useful here anymore, so you can go. You're free to leave the mansion.”

Sanghyuk knows the hurt is reflected in his face, but he can't manage to school his features into the indifference he would prefer. “You're just giving up? While he's still breathing?”

“Everything I've worked for. Everything I've done for years and nothing ever mattered. It's been over for decades. I was just too blind to see it.”

“Of course it mattered! It still does!”

“You're wrong.”

“So you're just what? Going to give up and watch him die?”

Slamming his fist against the desk, Taekwoon raises his voice. “You think this is a choice?”

“Yes,” Sanghyuk says. “I can still turn him.”

Taekwoon sneers. “He can't consent to that. I won't have you make him a monster like us.”

“He's already consented. He  _ asked  _ me to do it.”

“No.” Taekwoon folds back into his chair with his head in his hands. “You’re lying.”

Hunched over the research, Taekwoon's broad shoulders tremble. With nothing else in the room, Sanghyuk hears the small gasps for air that he's trying to hide. It's a picture Sanghyuk never thought he'd see: Taekwoon small and vulnerable, Taekwoon  _ crying _ .

Sanghyuk lies a hand tentatively on Taekwoon's shoulder. The sobs come harder, louder.

“If I could give my life for him I would,” Taekwoon says into his hands. “It's not right that I should keep living.”

“Woah,” Sanghyuk says, sitting back down. “You shouldn't say things like that.”

Taekwoon wipes his face on his sweater sleeve. “I didn't mean it like that. I just… I should be the one suffering for this.”

Sanghyuk bites into his lip. “I think you're suffering enough.”

Taekwoon sniffs. “This room used to be for storage. You'll notice there's no windows.”

“Yeah?” Sanghyuk asks, softly.

“Hongbin and I used to sneak in here at night. It seemed like another world when I was younger. There were old oak trees that would scrape against the walls and the fireplace would make long, eerie shadows. We would take turns telling scary stories. He was much better at it than I was. With words, anyway.”

Taekwoon is staring at the long run before the fireplace. Sanghyuk images two young boys huddled onto it, their low voices speaking of witches and ghosts. He wants to smile, but the atmosphere of the room is still misery.

“Once I became a witch I suppose I started cheating. I'd make the fire rage in an instant from embers or echo sounds across the hall outside.” Taekwoon smiles. “I terrified him. I always have to win. I always have to get what I want.”

“Some would call that driven,” Sanghyuk says, remembering Jaehwan's comments on the balcony. “You were just a kid.”

“Some would call it selfish.”

Sanghyuk shrugs. “It's a double edged sword I guess.”

“Do you know what I want right now, baby vampire?”

The nickname sends a cold thrill through Sanghyuk's spine. Taekwoon isn't looking at him, and Sanghyuk could swear it's pointedly as he turns a pewter figurine of a griffin around in his fingers. His aura picks up, crackling much more like normal.

“For me to leave?” Sanghyuk guesses.

Taekwoon chuckles, a dangerous sound. “No. I want you to stop drinking from Hakyeon. I know you--”

“I'm not going to drink your disgusting blood packs when I have a willing partner. I can see that you're jealous, but it's not your decision.”

Closing the laptop, Taekwoon looks sharply at him, making Sanghyuk want to hide. “You misunderstand. I want you to stop drinking from Hakyeon because I want you to drink from me.”


	9. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanghyuk's memories

Taekwoon holds his breath waiting for the answer.

Sanghyuk stares at him for the longest time, as if trying to decipher whether or not he's serious. There's no sign of anything else in his features.

Taekwoon had said it with all the authority he could muster, as if stating it like a fact instead of a question would alleviate the vulnerability he might feel. It didn't.

Sanghyuk walks his fingers across the edge of the desk. “Why?”

Taekwoon swallows. Why, indeed? He wants to feel Sanghyuk close, closer than when he reversed his hex. He wants to feel his lips on his neck, wants an excuse to cling to him, wants to discover what Hakyeon feels all of the time. Petulantly, he feels left out. All of this is true; none of it changes the fact that he desperately wants to keep Sanghyuk distracted from Hongbin.

“I want to know what it's like,” Taekwoon answers.

Sanghyuk's lips twist into a frown and Taekwoon wants to lick at the seam until Sanghyuk opens up to him, to taste his own blood in the vampire's mouth. Damn Hakyeon for putting these thoughts into his head.

“It's as good a reason as any, I suppose,” Sanghyuk says, “but there are dangers.”

“You're not going to kill me.”

Sanghyuk laughs and his eyes crinkle. “No I'm not, but… there are other things. Has Hakyeon really not told you?”

Taekwoon grips the sides of the chair. “Told me what?”

“When I drink from someone usually I can,” Sanghyuk looks away, “see their memories. The most potent ones. It's likely you'd have to relive something painful.”

“Like my curse.”

Sanghyuk's eyes go comically wide, and Taekwoon laughs.

“What… um, what curse?”

“Theres no need to play stupid. The two of you left the door to my skull wide open. I know he told you everything before he--”

Taekwoon cuts himself off, not knowing how to describe Hongbin's current state, feeling too defeated to attempt.

“You're not mad?” Sanghyuk wrings his hands.

“I might be, under different circumstances. I can't bring myself to despise one of the last things he ever did.”

Sanghyuk nods, looking down at his hands. “Hakyeon did tell you, but you want to relive it. You want to torture yourself.”

Absurd. But if that's what he wants to think, let him. He doesn't need to know that this is a distraction.

“Does it matter? We both get what we want.”

Taekwoon moves to lean against the desk in front of Sanghyuk. He crosses his long legs and Sanghyuk watches them, just as intended. Poked in the arms of his chair, Sanghyuk's claws have begun to show.

“I guess I'll let you know when I'm hungry, then.” 

Sanghyuk stands, but Taekwoon grasps him by the elbow.

“I want it now.”

Sanghyuk scoffs. “You're a spoiled brat, you know that?”

Taekwoon slides his hand down Sanghyuk's arm and finds his index finger, bringing it to his neck. Pinching his claw, Taekwoon drags it down his neck, opening a long slit and seething at the pain.

Sanghyuk licks his lips.

“Are you just going to let me bleed?”

Sanghyuk takes Taekwoon by the hips and pushes him up on the desk, spreading his legs and standing between them. He laps at the trickling blood slowly, over and over, moaning sweetly.

Taekwoon's hands sink into his hair, keeping him in place. This is how he imagined it, exactly what he wanted--clinging to Sanghyuk as he takes from him. It seems as if his heart is beating to the rhythm of Sanghyuk's tongue insistently licking at his neck.

“Demon blood,” he mumbles messily against Taekwoon's neck, “tastes so good.”

Taekwoon closes his eyes against the rising heat in his spine, hearing and feeling Sanghyuk pant against his skin. Sanghyuk surges closer so they're pressed together, chest to hips.

Taekwoon whines again as Sanghyuk's tongue pushes in and out of the wound. Sanghyuk pulls back to hush him. Purple blood is smeared across his lips and over his chin. His fangs peak out as he speaks. 

“I'm going to take care of you.”

Taekwoon curls his legs around Sanghyuk's waist to trap him in place. He pulls Sanghyuk's face back down to his neck. Swirls of pain shoot through him again as Sanghyuk bites down across the cut, making two more puncture wounds. Moaning, Taekwoon feels Sanghyuk's claws press in harder against his hips.

Sanghyuk licks around the shell of Taekwoon's ear and whispers his name. Sighing, Taekwoon lets his head fall to the left. In this moment he can no longer pretend this is about Hongbin; he wants Sanghyuk to devour him, to use him however he pleases. He can give in. No one else has to know.

He tugs on the thick hairs on the crown of Sanghyuk's head. The vampire pulls back, eyes unfocused, and Taekwoon pulls him in, resting his lips on Sanghyuk's ever so lightly.

Claws rake up his spine as Sanghyuk kisses back harder, breaking the kiss to breathe in before he leans in again. He licks delicately at Taekwoon's upper lip as it rests in his mouth, so careful to avoid his fangs.

Sanghyuk is kissing him and  _ oh _ , it's so much better than he imagined. His lips are big and soft, and the tang of blood on his tongue reminds him all over again that Sanghyuk is a predator, just like him.

“I’m seeing nothing,” Taekwoon says against Sanghyuk's mouth.

Sanghyuk chuckles. “Be patient. I haven't even started yet.”

Kissing across Taekwoon's jaw and down, he comes back to the wound and stops. Taekwoon can feel his blood has streamed down his neck and has started to bleed into his shirt. He wonders if Sanghyuk is this way with Hakyeon, aggressive and soft in turns, an ebb and flow.

"I've been thinking about this since I met you." More licks against his throbbing throat. "The way your blood smelled in that apartment… god, I wanted to tear you apart."

Taekwoon's fingers dig into Sanghyuk's back. His moan is high and thin and his attempt to bite it back is futile. Sanghyuk begins to suck from the wound, and Taekwoon's world narrows to the pain in his neck.

Sparks fly down his spine. His legs tighten around Sanghyuk's waist and he gasps for the air he can't find in his lungs. As Sanghyuk draws harder, Taekwoon closes his eyes against the growing dizziness.

His laboratory melts away. He's sat on a futon, covered with a plush green blanket. The walls are a sandy yellow and covered in unframed canvas paintings of the sun in various forms: sunrise, sunset, full day. The smell of meat cooking is heavy around him. Droning guitars filter out from a small boombox across the room.

A tall, thin man leans across him. Facial hair prickles against the front of his throat. The sharp pain of fangs grips him again, but this time it hurts much less--and turns him on much more. His hands run through the man's hair, releasing it from the ponytail it's in.

"Sanghyuk," the man sighs against his neck.

Taekwoon looks down and realizes this is, in fact, Sanghyuk's body.

He leans his head farther back to give the man--the vampire--more access. Sanghyuk's moan is low and guttural. The vampire crawls onto his lap and lowers himself down against his body. He feels light, and giddy, safe and loved.

Then he doesn't. He's suddenly on a wooden floor, feeling lost and hopeless, crying with the weight of feeling unloved. The room is dark around him save for the moonlight slanting through a window, and a blue lava lamp that throws shadows against the walls.

His hand is around his neck, his own warm blood spilling over his hand. In his other is the knife that made the wound. It makes a clattering sound as it falls to the ground next to him. Crying, the sobs only make the blood spurt worse down his front. The sounds he's making are short and cut off, miserable and grotesque.

"Sanghyuk, oh God, what have you done?" 

The same vampire says his name with none of the reverence he had before. Kneeling at his side, the vampire lies him back down to the floor, hands fluttering about his gurgling neck.

"God damn you," the vampire says quietly, but the anger is evident in his eyes.

The room is getting darker, and he can barely keep his eyes open. There comes the sickening feeling in his chest that maybe he did this for no reason. Maybe the vampire will leave him to die. After all, he's been so cold and so demanding. Perhaps the vampire will only be glad to be rid of him.

"Minwon," he whispers, barely audible.

The vampire dives onto his neck, pulling at the blood, greedy and messy. A thread of guilt is pulled taut in his gut. Maybe he should have waited until Minwon said he was ready. But it's been decades…

His whole body relaxes when Minwon slashes his wrist against his fangs. Jerking his head up, Minwon shoves the bleeding wrist into his face, smearing it across his nose and mouth.

"Drink you selfish bitch."

He does. Though the taste is salty and sour, nothing like the anti-aging concoctions Minwon's been feeding him for years, he latches onto his arm and sucks. His veins feel molten, the heat pouring through him and radiating outward until he feels like its too much. The more he gets, the more he wants, the more he feels like the wound in Minwon's wrist isn't enough.

As his sucking becomes more like biting, as he feels the strange tingling sensation of his nails turning into claws, Minwon jerks his wrist away.

They sit like that, on the bloody floor, silence weighted between them. Guilt floods through him now that he has what he wants. He knows it's at a price--one that he's not sure he now wants to pay.

"Please say something," he says, and Sanghyuk's voice sounds so small and scared, like Taekwoon has never heard it before.

"How could you do this to me? Why couldn't you just be patient?"

Minwon's words are laced with hatred. Standing, he paces the small room and flexes his claws like he wants to hurt something.

Something, some small fire in him flares at the words. He’s been patient. Too patient. Though he feels the guilt, he feels resentment even more. For all the years he's given Minwon, all the broken promises, the easily spoken words of derision and the times he's had to come in second to whatever pretty thing crossed Minwon's path that week.   
  
"Maybe I was tired of you making all my decisions for me--"

Minwon lashes out with his claws and rakes them over his face. The impact throws him back and suddenly he's in his laboratory again. Sanghyuk unlocks his lips from Taekwoon's neck and takes a deep, ragged breath next to his ear.

He pushes against Taekwoon's chest to get away, but Taekwoon's legs are still locked around his waist. Their eyes meet, and though Taekwoon feels hazy and weightless, the fear in Sanghyuk's eyes sobers him immediately.

"Sanghyuk…"

"How did you do it?" he asks, fumbling with Taekwoon's legs, trying to get away. "What horrible spell did you cast on me?"

"I didn't do anything, I promise you." 

Taekwoon uncurls his legs to let him go. Sanghyuk stumbles backward and into the chair, almost falling over before catching himself. His hand is trembling where it lies around his neck.

"You… it's not…"

Taekwoon slips off the desk. He's unsure whether or not Sanghyuk wants to be touched, so he hovers, worried.

"Those were your memories," Taekwoon says.

Sanghyuk shakes his head over and over. "No. No."

Taekwoon hates that Sanghyuk is looking at him like this. He knows he's an awful, selfish bastard, but he didn't  _ do _ this thing, however it came about. He scrambles for something, anything to say to make the vampire understand.

"Please just sit down for a moment." Taekwoon reaches for him.

Jumping away, Sanghyuk's brows come together and he bares his fangs. "You had no right, those memories are private."

"Please, calm down."

"No! No, I can't believe--"

Sanghyuk cuts himself off, a steely look replacing his fear and hurt. He shirks away toward the door and Taekwoon wants to follow, but he's afraid. Afraid of making it worse or making it better, he's not sure which. The intimacy of what just happened--both before and after the memories--only now strikes him and he holds himself back, watching Sanghyuk slip through the door away from him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	10. ...and Live Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanghyuk turns Hongbin; the house has an unexpected visitor

Sanghyuk's heart won't stop racing. He's braced against the inside of his door, one hand on his chest.

_ Minwon _ .

A name he's tried so hard to forget, to never say, to never think. And yet he finds haunts him everywhere he goes. A night that he regrets, taking things into his own hands, forcing Minwon to choose between turning him and watching him bleed out on the floor. A moment he's harshly ashamed of, now firmly implanted in the mind of Taekwoon.

Minwon, his lover, his maker, his best friend. His abuser. He's never reconciled the two in his mind, the  _ good _ Minwon and the  _ bad _ Minwon. The one that protected him and cared for him, and the one that belittled him, and ultimately, left him alone to manage a magic store, and worse, the thirst and ignorance of a baby vampire. They have been kept in two very separate compartments in his mind. But seeing them side-by-side like that, so close together… something has snapped.

How did Taekwoon reverse it? Could it be possible that he  _ actually _ didn't do anything, or is it just another lie, another magic of this place?

Would he tell Hakyeon what he saw? Would both of them find disgust and contempt for his actions?

Sanghyuk slides to the ground, curls into a ball and sobs. He cries until there are no more tears, until he feels the waves of nausea flow over him.

Minwon. He'd give anything to be held by him again. To see him one last time and explain what went wrong. To  _ apologize _ . But he doesn't have the privilege of the maker-vampire link, and he knows Minwon doesn't care. He hasn't for a long time.

His next impulse is to run to Hakyeon, but he finds that he hates himself for that impulse as well. Needing someone to comfort him at all feels like a significant weakness, one that perhaps is the reason for all of this to begin with.

He bites at his claws, ripping the nail beds. He claws at his mouth where his fangs descend from his eye teeth. He ignores the blood beading on his fingers and seeping from his gums. He despises the hunger residing in his soul and the taste of Taekwoon's blood still lingering in his mouth. He hates how much he loves the hunt and the catch, the feeling of draining something that's unlike anything else he's ever experienced.

He hates being here suddenly, hates the green velvet of his--no,  _ their _ \--bed, the fancy statues that line the room, the filigree of the walls. He wants to go home to his creaky twin-sized bed with its flannel sheets and boring, plain white walls in his too-small apartment. Where he can hide away from the sharp eyes of Taekwoon and the soft gaze of Hakyeon.

He might just do it if he knew where he was, if he knew how to get home from this ridiculous castle. But just now he remembers the promise he made. If only one good thing can come of this, it can be saving a life. Hongbin's life.

He lifts himself wearily from the floor, surprisingly drained from the sobbing he'd been doing. Cracking open his door, he's relieved to find it quiet and empty. He flits from his room into Hongbin's, relieved further that he's in there alone.

Someone has been there recently, likely Taekwoon or Hakyeon; the taper candles are long and the fire crackles with a fresh log. Distantly Sanghyuk wonders if all the fire energy is good for someone in Hongbin's condition. Then again, Taekwoon would know better than he would, and it likely doesn't matter much now, anyway.

Hongbin's curls are damp with sweat and his strikingly gaunt face is contorted into a look of pain. Through all the heat in the room he's still covered with sheets and comforter, and another heavy blanket besides. A towel lies on his pillow that was likely placed on his face before he'd moved to his side.

Sanghyuk sits next to his feet. He takes in the solemn atmosphere of the room, feeling the edge of the knife. He's about to change Hongbin's life, drastically, forever. Not just until death, because he won't die.  _ Forever _ . That's not something to be taken lightly, not as lightly as he'd once taken it.

Still, it's something that needs to be done. He had promised. And he intends to keep his promise.

"Hongbin," he whispers. He places his hand around Hongbin's leg and nudges it rhythmically. "Hongbin, wake up."

He isn't sure Hongbin is even able to be conscious, but slowly he opens his eyes, a glassy look to them. He turns onto his back and whines, covering his eyes with both hands.

"Head...hurts…" he squeaks out.

"I know," Sanghyuk says, rubbing his leg again. "I'm here to make it all go away."

Hongbin peers at him from underneath his hands. "You mean--you're here to turn me?"

"Yes."

Hongbin sits up, the blankets falling off his shoulders. He squints, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't think you'd actually… I mean…"

"I know."

"Can you blow out that candle?" Hongbin says, squinting, pointing to the candleabrum to his right, on the dresser.

Sanghyuk licks his fingers and snuffs them out, hearing Hongbin sigh in relief.

"Is it going to hurt?" Hongbin asks.

Sanghyuk nods, going back to rubbing at Hongbin's leg. "But it feels good, too, if you let it. It's better if you relax."

Hongbin hums. "I trust you."

The confession strikes him as curious. Hongbin doesn't seem like the type of person to trust just anyone. Yet here he is, sat in a dark room, offering his blood to Sanghyuk like it's no big deal. Maybe it's not. After all, he's already in a lot of pain. And the only alternative is death.

As Hongbin crawls out from under the covers, the low light shines off his sweat-slick thighs. Sanghyuk quickly averts his eyes.

"It's better for the fever," Hongbin explains, laughing. It sounds weak. "Do you need me to put something on?"

"N-No, I just wasn't expecting it."

Hongbin sits in front of Sanghyuk with his hands held in his lap. He cranes his neck until Sanghyuk meets his eyes. "I'm ready."

"Okay, um." Sanghyuk wrings his hands. "Come here."

Hongbin reaches behind his head to release his hair from where it's pinned. He runs his hands through it and pulls it to the side, over his shoulder, and leaning his head to the side. He runs his fingers across his exposed carotid, smirking up at Sanghyuk, who is watching with intent.

Sanghyuk scoots forward and takes Hongbin by the neck, stroking it with his thumb. As he opens his mouth to show his fangs, Hongbin's eyes go wide and a tremor runs through his body, betraying his show of bravado.

"It's alright," Sanghyuk whispers.

He isn't hungry physically, but that same mental hunger of wanting  _ more _ kicks up the closer he gets to Hongbin's neck. He struggles with the angle before deciding to pull Hongbin bodily across his lap. Hongbin goes easily, settling into place and putting his hands on Sanghyuk's shoulders.

"You might relive some memories," Sanghyuk says softly. "Ones you don't particularly like."

"Okay," Hongbin says, with obvious hesitancy. He takes a deep breath and sighs. "Please start already before I die."

“You will never die,” Sanghyuk breathes across his face, searching Hongbin’s eyes.

He cups Hongbin's jaw and pushes his chin aside with his thumb, so careful to avoid touching him with his claws. Licking at the long expanse of pretty neck, he takes his time kissing and nibbling, getting Hongbin used to the sensations. He listens with pleasure to the little gasps and sighs Hongbin releases, leaning more into the touche.

Finally his teeth sink into flesh. Hongbin yelps, his fingers digging into Sanghyuk's shoulders. Sanghyuk licks at the puncture holes.

"I'm going to draw out all of your blood. Then you'll have to drink mine. Are you ready?"

" _ Yes _ ."

Hongbin's blood tastes like coffee smells, warm and rich and full of dark, earthen tones, satisfying something down to his core. Sanghyuk has no ability to take it slow after the first draw. He clings to Hongbin as Hongbin clings to him, whining and fisting his hands into Sanghyuk's shirt.

Sanghyuk slides his fingers up into Hongbin's hair and massages his scalp. Hongbin relaxes into his touch. As they both sink further into this trance, Hongbin slides his leg over Sanghyuk's lap and straddles him, lifting onto his knees. Insisting and impatient, just like his bleeding aura.

"Sanghyuk, please, don't stop," he pants, fingers curling into Sanghyuk's shoulders.

Sanghyuk tugs down on his curls, exposing more of his throat. He licks bloody stripes across Hongbin's adam's apple, licking it clean again with delicate, slow strokes of his tongue. Above him, Hongbin moans low and sweet.

As he works the puncture wounds again, he feels it coming, bleeding into his vision and his mind. A library manifests around him, growing from the ground up. It's bigger than the one he's used to in the castle, a large seating area with six sets of tables flanked by rows and rows of books. A grand, snaking chandelier hangs from the rafters casting brilliant light down onto him where he's sprawled on the floor.

A tall, slender woman stands in the middle of the room. With a single, tiny arm she has Taekwoon by the neck and lifts him inches off the ground. Then, with unbelievable force she throws him against one of the long tables. Cracking under the force, the table splits in half and Taekwoon spills to the floor. He grunts and bends in half, then like a slingshot he's snapped back and struggling, as if pushing against an invisible force.

"She  _ trusted _ you," the woman yells, approaching Taekwoon again.

"That was… her fault…" Taekwoon says, gasping lungfuls of air.

Sanghyuk--that is, Hongbin--shivers with fear and scrambles behind the huge globe where he can witness the procession.

The woman punches the air and Taekwoon doubles over, falls to his knees and vomits violently.

Then it's dark. He hears the ticking of an old standing clock in the silence. Rubbing his eyes to adjust to the darkness, he takes one step forward, and then another.

His parents' huge bed looms before him and he chews on his lip, hesitating. The bedding is pulled down on the bed and he can see two shapes in the low light.

Suddenly Taekwoon is there, grabbing his arm and wrenching it until all he can see is the back of Taekwoon's shirt. Clinging to him immediately, he smells the strange mixture of blood and charcoal. He tightens his grip, shoving his face into his brother's back, trying to forget the image of his big, invincible brother at the mercy of one tiny woman.

"Mother?" Taekwoon asks, voice small. He takes one step and then another, then stops short. Whirling around, Taekwoon crushes him into a stifling hug and gasps out a heaving sob.

Glass clinks against the marble table as Taekwoon sets his drink down. He's looking timid under his curiously long black hair.

"Do you ever think about leaving?" Taekwoon asks.

The sounds of Hakyeon singing waft through the kitchen door.

_ God yes. Every single day.  _ He aches with the prospect.

"And leave you and killer here alone?" He nods his head toward the kitchen. "What fun would you old men have without me?"

Larkspur whines from across the room.

Taekwoon says, "I do. I think about Manila, Beijing, New York, Cairo."

He takes a sip of crystal-cold water, letting the sound of the ice linger between them. "Why don't you go?"

"My duty is here," Taekwoon says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "But you don't have to be. I can get your medicine to you anywhere in the world--"

He meets Taekwoon's eyes, and the guilt there takes his breath away. "Taekwoon…"

Sanghyuk crashes down, returning to Hongbin's room. His hand slides down Hongbin's bare back. He pulls off his neck with a gasp, with the full feeling of having drained someone past the point of no return. Hongbin’s head falls backward, limp in Sanghyuk’s arms. He groans quietly, eyes heavy.

“You’re dying,” says Sanghyuk.

Hongbin laughs, a sad thing that shakes his entire form.

Pricking at his wrist with his teeth, Sanghyuk makes a face at the taste of his own blood. He’s never really liked it; his own blood tastes harsh and sour like citrus. He lifts Hongbin’s head up to his arm and shifts in order to press himself farther into Hongbin.

Hongbin is ready for it; he clamps on to his wrist immediately and sucks hard. The sensation snaps through Sanghyuk's body like a kick to the gut. It's been so long since he's been drank from. No, he refuses to think of Minwon. Not now. This is something special, something sacred, between the two of them.

He kisses Hongbin's forehead. Hongbin looks up at him in question, but Sanghyuk simply smiles, urging him on with a nod.

Hongbin drinks in a way that somehow reflects himself; delicate and unrelenting. He pulls from Sanghyuk in long, desperate spurts and Sanghyuk has to remind himself to breathe. 

It starts with the color of his skin, igniting from its pale sick hue to a lovely golden tone. The sunken quality of his face gives way to firm and youthful visage, highlighted beautifully by his high cheekbones. His tender, trembling grip turns strong, keeping Sanghyuk in place when he tries to pull away.

"Stop," Sanghyuk groans.

Hongbin pulls off of him with a great intake of breath and settles back in Sanghyuk's arms as if the act had taken everything in him.

Sanghyuk is filled suddenly with an overwhelming rush of pride. Hongbin is  _ beautiful _ , quite possibly the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen. His large brown eyes flutter open and he lies limp in Sanghyuk's arms, staring up at him dazedly.

He wants to kiss Hongbin everywhere. It's a reverent urge, an awe and a flush of love that Hongbin is  _ his _ , is a product and a part of him. Hongbin is going to belong to him forever, and yet in this rush of emotion that seems far too little time.

Smiling at Hongbin softly, Sanghyuk shifts him inside of his arms in order to push back a sweaty lock of curl that sticks to his face.

"My teeth hurt," Hongbin says, lifting his fingers to his mouth.

"I know, darling." Sanghyuk lies him back down. "It will pass."

Hongbin sighs, resting his forehead against Sanghyuk's shoulder. Sanghyuk stares down at him with a perfect mixture of love and envy. He is going to stay, to show Hongbin what he can and can’t do, help him to manage the initial waves of hunger. He will be there for him when he gets scared, when he might regret his decision, when the full impact of what he’s become will hit him. God, how he wishes Minwon had done that for him. It isn’t fair.

“You’re crying,” Hongbin says. 

“I’m sorry,” Sanghyuk says, sniffing.

Hongbin bites his lip. “You’re regretting this.”

“No,” Sanghyuk drawls. “I’m not. It’s just emotional.”

“Why?” Hongbin looks genuinely and innocently curious.

“Don’t you feel it? The magic between us?”

“I feel… something. I’ve always been drawn to you knowing what you are, but now it’s… softer. A genuine pull toward your center of gravity. I feel like nothing in the world can hurt me.”

Interesting. Sanghyuk had felt none of that with Minwon.

“Don’t be so sure,” Sanghyuk says, lying Hongbin down and standing up. “There’s still the matter of Taekwoon to deal with.”

Scoffing, Hongbin rises as well, and begins to sort through his wardrobe. “He’s Taekwoon. He’ll blow a bunch of steam and then level out.”

“Aren’t you afraid of him disowning you?” Sanghyuk covers his hand with his mouth as soon as he asks the question, guilt prickling at his conscience.

Hongbin’s shoulders visibly tighten, and Sanghyuk picks up his twinges of fear.

“Well if he wants to be that stubborn,” Hongbin says, pulling a shirt over his head, “then I have you now.”

Sanghyuk watches him dress the rest of the way in silence. Yes, they have each other now. But what has he lost, turning Hongbin? Taekwoon will never forgive him. Hakyeon will have no choice but to take Taekwoon’s side. He barely knows Wonshik and Jaehwan. If he ever had a place here it’s permanently revoked.

This strikes a cord in him, one of misery and regret. He realizes, despite his freak out earlier, that he desperately doesn’t want to go back to his old life now that he’s tasted this one. His stomach feels sick with how much he’d miss Hakyeon. Sanghyuk pictures his gentle, close-mouthed smile and tastes the sugary essence of his blood in the back of his throat.

He’s not ready to face this. All he wants to do is hide.

  
  
  


~ * ~

  
  
  


The maker-vampire link is heavier and more remarkable than Sanghyuk had thought. It is yet another albatross making him hyper-attentive to others. He wonders if he will ever get used to it, will ever not have half his consciousness taken up by the awareness of Hongbin. Even as he slips from his room he can sense him as if he were still in his lap. When Hongbin thinks of him--and that seems to be much of what he’s doing--he feels a pull toward him, a strain in his mind like a cramped muscle that craves release. But he can’t be with Hongbin right this second. Right now, he needs Hakyeon.

He finds him in the library, reclining across the sofa with a novel in his hands. He looks soft and inviting, peaceful as his eyes skim the page, a shaft of morning light illuminating his hair. Once he notices he's not alone, he closes the book, eyes narrowing.

"Sanghyuk?"

He doesn't respond, only makes his way to Hakyeon with his head down, sitting beside him when he shifts his legs to the floor to make room. Hakyeon runs his fingers down Sanghyuk's arm and twines their fingers together.

"What is it? Tell me."

Sanghyuk clutches Hakyeon's hand tighter. "I don't want to."

Hakyeon presses his lips to Sanghyuk's shoulder. "All right."

Sighing, Sanghyuk turns to him so that their knees are touching. "I don't want to. But you'll find out anyway."

" _ Tell me _ ."

"I don't know where to start…" 

"Talk your way through it. Start anywhere, I will listen as you put it together."

Taking a deep breath, Sanghyuk forces himself to meet Hakyeon's worried eyes as he begins. "I drank from Taekwoon."

Hakyeon breathes out a laugh. "Were you worried I'd be mad about that? You can drink from whomever you want."

"No, I…" Sanghyuk runs his hand down his face. "He saw my memories instead of me seeing his. Something I did that I'm not proud of."

"Do you want to tell me what that was?" Hakyeon rubs his thumb softly against Sanghyuk's hand.

"I forced my maker's hand in changing me. I… I slit my own throat in front of him knowing he'd have to change me or watch me die. I was impatient and afraid he was just stringing me along. It was stupid… so stupid. And selfish and horrible."

Hakyeon pulls Sanghyuk in until his side is against his chest. "You were young."

Sanghyuk scoffs. "Not that young."

"You were young," Hakyeon repeats. "You're still young. I know you, Sanghyuk. You're not a mystery. You're an open book of kindness and selflessness. It doesn't matter what mistakes you've made."

"It does," Sanghyuk's eyes begin to water, "I drove him away and he never came back."

"Maybe I'm the selfish one," Hakyeon smiles, "because I'm glad. It brought you to me."

Sanghyuk tucks his shy smile into his chest. With two fingers Hakyeon lifts his chin to press their lips together, lingering and soft, a comfort that Sanghyuk sinks into like a warm bath. Hakyeon's fingers are delicate when they skim his jaw and slide down his neck. When he pulls away, Hakyeon presses another small kiss to his nose.

"That's not the worst of it," Sanghyuk says. He desperately doesn't want to tell Hakyeon this. "I turned Hongbin."

Hakyeon's eyes go wide and his mouth opens. He is quiet for a few achingly long moments. "He asked you for it."

Sanghyuk nods, looking at their fingers entwined, not wanting to see whatever might be in Hakyeon's eyes--disappointment, anger, accusation.

"Did it… did it cure him?" Hakyeon asks.

"Yeah," Sanghyuk breathes out. "He looks wonderful."

"Oh, Sanghyuk." Hakyeon pulls him into a tight embrace, chin poking into the top of his head. "You've saved him."

"You're not mad?"

"Of course not, why would I be?" Hakyeon loosens his hold to look at him.

"Taekwoon said he'd rather have Hongbin dead than a vampire."

Hakyeon scoffs. "That sounds like him. But he didn't mean it, not deep down."

"I don't want him to be mad… I don't want to have to leave…"

"He has these ideals of Hongbin as an innocent child. Not to mention he will see this as a failure on his part. He so desperately wanted to be the hero for his little brother. Once he gets over that hurt, he will come around.

"But you don't have to worry about losing your place here. No one is going to let Taekwoon bully you away."

"It's his house," Sanghyuk protests.

Hakyeon rolls his eyes. "Come on." He stands and yanks Sanghyuk up by the arm. "You need to face this sooner rather than later."

  
  


~ * ~

  
  


Sanghyuk isn't used to being on the first floor. He's not sure how this living room makes him feel, glowing trinkets and all. He's really not sure he wants to be a part of this "family meeting," as much as he knows he's the sole reason for it. Jaehwan and Wonshik come down the stairs one by one, looking nervous and downright grim. From the glaring lack of Hongbin's presence, he can only imagine what they're thinking.

Wonshik is already misty-eyed, holding a death grip on Jaehwan's hand while the later whispers sweet words to him. Taekwoon is across from them on the opposite side of the couch as Sanghyuk, pulling on his earrings and sporting a frown. He, at least, must know that Hongbin is "okay"--clearly, though, he hasn't seen him yet this morning.

Hakyeon is sitting on the chair that faces the stairs. He looks as if he's at the head of the table, which seems fitting, as he's the one that called them all together. His aura is calm like the softest falling snow, while Sanghyuk's stomach turns in knots. He glances at Taekwoon, who is staring down into his lap. He wishes he were sitting somewhere else, somewhere Taekwoon doesn't have direct access to cause him bodily harm.

Hakyeon clears his throat.

"I know you're all very anxious, so I'll start by saying that Hongbin is alright. He hasn't been taken from us."

"Yet," says Taekwoon.

Hakyeon glares at him. "Taekwoon. I'm going to ask you only once to keep your civility during this procession. Unless you want a reminder of who really is the most powerful here."

The ominous remark sends a chill up Sanghyuk's spine. Taekwoon seems unaffected on the surface, a mere shrug in return, but Sanghyuk feels the numbing ends of his anticipatory fear.

"Wonshik."

Wonshik hums in response.

"Do I have your word that you will restrain Taekwoon if anything gets out of hand?"

"I--" he looks at Taekwoon, who looks away. "I will."

"Thank you. I trust it won't be necessary." Another sharp look at Taekwoon. "Now Hongbin. Join us please."

All heads swivel toward the staircase as he descends. Sanghyuk can almost feel every step he takes. The shock and delight of the room overwhelms him, so strong that he feels nauseated. Hongbin drinks in the attention, preening as he hits the bottom of the stairs. He smiles warmly at the room and does a mock curtsey.

"Good morning," he says cheerily.

Sanghyuk cowers as Taekwoon jumps up. But Sanghyuk seems to be the farthest thing from his mind as he stumbles over himself in haste to get to Hongbin. He shoes scuff the tile as he stops short and yanks Hongbin into an embrace. One arm across his back, the other holding Hongbin's head to his shoulder, Taekwoon seems oblivious to Hongbin's discomfort as he crushes him in the hold.

The pure love radiating from Taekwoon relaxes Sanghyuk's limbs. 

"How?" whispers Taekwoon, cupping Hongbin's cheeks.

"You were right, Taekwoon. The secret to my cure  _ was  _ Sanghyuk's blood."

Hongbin's smile is so beautiful and so bright. And Sanghyuk currently wants to crawl behind Hakyeon, or maybe disappear into thin air. Anything but face Taekwoon when he turns around.

Taekwoon's arms fall from Hongbin. "What do you mean?" 

The sharp edge of suspicion in his voice says he knows exactly what Hongbin means.

"Don't be mad," Hongbin says, pleading.

Taekwoon steps backward once, twice, and then turns. His eyes are red, a deeper red than Sanghyuk has ever seen them, a bleeding color that could almost be mistaken for his natural brown if the rest of his features weren't curved into a threat. He's pinned in place by that look, curling his fingers into the slick leather of the couch and closing his eyes, waiting for whatever is to come.

He hears Taekwoon's footsteps and then a howling wind, and feels the breeze across his face.

"God damnit!"

Taekwoon's curse sounds hollow and far away. Sanghyuk opens his eyes to see whirls of black smoke in a shape and size roughly that of Taekwoon. It's floating slightly above ground. It must be Wonshik's doing, for now Jaehwan's arms are empty.

Hakyeon's sigh is long-suffering.

"Let me go!" Taekwoon demands.

"No," says Hakyeon. "Your inability to have a civil conversation with Sanghyuk is ridiculous. It's been a problem since he arrived. Now, we're going to talk about this like adults."

Hongbin places himself between Sanghyuk and Taekwoon. "Leave him out of it."

"I told him I didn't want you turned!"

"You also told him you'd rather have me dead, didn't you?"

Silence.

"It was my decision,” Hongbin says. “I  _ asked _ him to do it. Why do you hate the idea of me being a vampire so much?"

"Because I…"

Taekwoon starts and stop several times before finally gathering the right words.

"Because I don't want you to have to be a monster like me.  _ Because  _  of me. I… I failed you."

The last part is almost a whisper.

"I'm not a monster and neither are you," Sanghyuk says, quietly.

Taekwoon continues as if he'd said nothing at all. "You don't understand what it's like, taking from living things in order to live. Murdering them. It changes you."

"So you'd rather have me dead than different? You can't love me like this?" Hongbin's voice breaks.

Hakyeon bites his lip and looks at Sanghyuk. Sanghyuk feels like he shouldn't be witnessing this, like it's an exceptionally private and pivotal moment in the brothers' relationship. The silence drags on, broken only by the woosh of Wonshik's hold.

"Of course… of course I can love you," Taekwoon says.

"Then why are you so angry?"

"Blood packs aren't going to be enough. You're going to have to drink from people and kill them. Doesn't that horrify you?"

"He doesn't have to kill," Sanghyuk says, hating to interrupt. "I'm not going to lie, there's a predator's urge, and killing will always feel more satisfying. But I've drank from you all since I've been here and no one had to die. Surely you can see that.

“I can take him hunting safely. There are plenty of awful people to hunt, if he's worried about karma. I didn't take this lightly, Taekwoon. I'm going to take care of him."

"That's  _ my _ job!" Taekwoon yells.

"This is between you and me, Taekwoon. Don't be angry at him."

"Actually," Hakyeon says, crossing his arms, "it's not. It's between Taekwoon and Sanghyuk. They have needed to talk their feelings out for a long time. Wonshik, let him go."

A whirl of black smoke and Taekwoon is deposited on the ground, looking disheveled. He adjusts his shirt and hair with an air of attitude that is so fundamentally Taekwoon that Sanghyuk could laugh.

"We're all going to leave you now and let you talk. Figure this out, the two of you. I'm not going to have my family ripped apart over your repressed feelings." 

Hakyeon walks out in a huff, and Jaehwan and Wonshik awkwardly follow. Hongbin stays behind and stares at them, finally marching up to Taekwoon and grabbing him into a tight hug.

"I love you," he says against his brother's neck.

Taekwoon is slower to embrace him, but when he does it's just as tight. "I love you, too."

Then he's gone like all the rest, leaving the two of them staring at each other.

"You can sit back down," Sanghyuk says, motioning to the large portion of couch to his right.

Taekwoon sits down, shoulders hunched. He runs his hands through his hair and then clasps them in his lap.

"I just don't understand why you didn't tell me. I thought we were… getting close--r. Than that."

Sanghyuk might think Taekwoon stumbling over his words was cute, if he wasn't still half-afraid of being strangled.

"I was afraid of how you'd react," Sanghyuk says.

It feels vulnerable to say, but hell, Taekwoon's already seen his memories. What's the worst that could happen?

"I don't want you to be afraid of me," Taekwoon mumbles. "I’m tired of people being afraid of me."

"Then  _ talk _ to me. Tell me how you feel even if all you have to say is awful to me."

Taekwoon rubs his temple. He looks at Sanghyuk with a sideways frown, like he's weighing the pros and cons. His aura is buzzing with energy, with pent up emotion, and Sanghyuk knows that energy has needed some place to go for a long time.

"I was supposed to cure him. I gave up my life for this…"

"And now you're free." Sanghyuk scoots closer. "Maybe it's not ideal, but it's a resolution. You can both move on."

"It sounds stupid and selfish, but… when Hongbin was sick he needed me. He stayed with me."

"You think he's going to abandon you?"

"He's going to follow you when you leave. What am I going to do with myself?" Taekwoon looks down at his out splayed hands as if they might hold the answers.

"I'm--I'm not going anywhere," Sanghyuk says. "Not unless you want me to."

"Of course," Taekwoon says. "You have Hakyeon now."

Sanghyuk chuckles. "Taekwoon, I like you. I want to get to know you better. Isn’t that obvious?"

Taekwoon rubs his arm and looks away.

"You kissed me," Sanghyuk says. "You can't tell me it meant nothing."

"No… I can't." Taekwoon still hasn't looked at him and his voice feels hesitant.

"But?" Sanghyuk urges him.

"But you don't trust me and you're afraid of me. You think I stole your memories or did something to you. I didn't."

"You're right, I don't trust you. But that's because it's earned. And I believe you can earn it, or I wouldn't bother."

"I know I've been difficult. But I didn't do anything to you when you drank from me. I wanted--I wanted you, that's all."

Sanghyuk can't see his face, but the tips of Taekwoon's ears are red. He nods, though Taekwoon can't see it. Now that he’s calm, he knows that Taekwoon isn’t lying. His aura tells him so.

"I know."

Taekwoon's aura softens, slows in a way that tells him what he just said means a lot to Taekwoon. He looks up at last, and his eyes are a little red. He moves closer in a motion that’s meant to look completely coincidental.

"That man… he shouldn't have hurt you." Taekwoon sniffs. "I know that sounds hypocritical, but--"

"No," Sanghyuk interrupts. "Don't compare yourself to him."

"You feel guilt. But I don't understand why."

Sanghyuk shrugs. "You saw what I did to him. It was awful."

"I saw the things he did to you. I felt how he made you feel." Taekwoon's fists clench in his lap. "He shouldn't get away with it."

Sanghyuk puts his hand on Taekwoon's shoulder, smiling. He presses an exploratory kiss to it, and Taekwoon watches, eyes wide. Sanghyuk smells that heady mix of cherries and charcoal, and looks at the demon’s full lips. He moves slowly, watching to make sure Taekwoon doesn’t pull away...

A pretty chime sounds through the house, overhead and echoing. Sanghyuk and Taekwoon jerk apart and look at each other both in confusion. 

"What was that?" Sanghyuk asks, glancing around.

Taekwoon's brows are furrowed again. "It was the doorbell. But we don't get visitors and delivery men know to come toward the back."

It chimes again.

"Well? Are you going to answer it?"

"Stay here," Taekwoon says, and disappears into the hallway. 

Sanghyuk is definitely not going to  _ stay put _ , so he follows Taekwoon to the big arched double doors. Sanghyuk supposes he knew there had to be a front door on some level, but the house feels like such a fortress that something as simple as this feels out of place.

Taekwoon rolls his eyes when he sees that Sanghyuk has followed him, and gathers him behind his back. Then, he opens the door.

"You," he says, anger piercing his voice.

When Sanghyuk peers around Taekwoon's shoulder, the last person he expects to see on the doorstep is  _ Minwon _ .   
  
  



	11. Broken Link

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fate of Minwon

Below the curled arches of the doorway stands Minwon, beautifully wicked Minwon. He looks precisely the same as he always has, ripped straight from Sanghyuk’s memories and deposited here in his new life, a place he very clearly shouldn’t be. The sun glints off his slicked back ponytail and his smile is affected, sharp. He’s every bit the wolf in sheep’s clothing that he’s always been.

 

“Minwon,” Sanghyuk says, breathless, and curls his hand around Taekwoon’s elbow.

 

“Hey sweetheart.”

 

Taekwoon slams the door shut.

 

“Taekwoon.” Sanghyuk frowns.

 

Hakyeon re-enters the room. “Who on earth was at the door?”

 

Minwon knocks this time, three slow, sarcastic knocks.

 

“No one.” Taekwoon speaks to Sanghyuk in a hushed whisper. “How can you want him here?”

 

“It must be important or he wouldn’t--he wouldn’t want to see me.”

 

Hakyeon stomps over to the door and opens it himself, bowing. “I am so sorry,” he says to Minwon. “Please, come in.”

 

“Thank you,” Minwon smiles at Hakyeon, as he gets lead to the couch. 

 

Taekwoon and Sanghyuk follow behind, arguing in hushed tones. Minwon plops on the white leather couch, putting his dirty feet up on the clean glass coffee table. Hakyeon visibly cringes. Sanghyuk takes a soft seat next to him.

 

Hakyeon clears his throat. “Can I get you anything? Water, tea?”

 

Minwon chuckles and grows his teeth, baring them at Hakyeon. “I’m afraid not, love.”

 

Hakyeon wraps his arms around himself, looking back at Sanghyuk. “We, um. We have some blood packs if you’re hungry…”

 

“He’s fine,” says Taekwoon, who has taken to standing near the stairs with his arms crossed and glaring, looking like an indignant guardian.

 

"What's this one's problem?" Minwon asks Sanghyuk. He inclines his head in a sarcastic way. "Is he your new boyfriend? Did you tell him about big bad Minwon?"

 

Sanghyuk feels a strange sense of imbalance, like missing a step on a stairwell. Minwon has always been a huge, looming figure in his life, an impossible obstacle in many ways, yet here he sits on Taekwoon's couch, nothing but a shallow, petty vampire. 

 

"How did you find me?" asks Sanghyuk quietly.

 

"How did I find you?" Minwon laughs and slaps his knee. "How couldn't I find you? You won't shut up about me."

 

"W-what?"

 

"The link. The damn maker link. I swear to God I should have left you bleeding."

 

This isn't the first time Minwon has said those words to him, but it's the first time he's heard them in awhile, the first time he's heard them since he's had time to convince himself that no one should speak that way to him.

 

Still, it hurts.

 

Taekwoon growls, his aura spiking sharply.

 

Minwon lifts a palm up to Taekwoon. "Easy big guy, what's done is done. I mean I'm flattered Sanghyuk, but come on. You think of me so much it gives me headaches. I can't live my life like this. You have to move on. I'm sure tiger here agrees."

 

"You--you have no idea, do you? What you did to me? What you're still doing?"

 

"I'm sorry I broke your heart but these things happen to everyone--"

 

"You didn't break my heart, you broke me." Sanghyuk feels the tears stinging in his eyes. "You made me feel worthless. Every day of my life you'd do little things to break me down further until I was nothing, just the way you wanted me."

 

Minwon scoffs. "That's ridiculous."

 

Fragments of memories and hurts return, and Sanghyuk’s tears spill over. He wipes them away quickly. He wants Minwon to listen to him, to take him seriously. To know every little hurt and slight he ever did to him and to apologize for it.

 

"Even now you're doing it. Refusing to accept my feelings and my reality. You abused me and you can't deny any of that anymore."

 

"You were a brat. All you ever wanted was more and more. I was already giving you everything I had and you were nothing but an ungrateful child.” Minwon is so calm, so disconnected from the conversation. It’s always made what he says seem like fact and what Sanghyuk thinks seem unimportant, lesser.

 

Sanghyuk hangs his head. “That’s not true.”

 

Minwon leans back on the couch, crossing his ankle against his knee. His open stature speaks of nothing but confidence. “What is the truth, then, Sanghyuk? Have you forgotten how selfishly you were born again?”

 

So much blood. The knife in his trembling hand. His tears hot and heavy on his cheeks. His hand across his throat, begging for Minwon.

 

“No. I could never forget that. And I’d like to atone for it, if I could. But you…”

 

Minwon leans closer to Sanghyuk. He grabs his shirt collar and pulls it to the side. “Do you want to taste what you were like? Do you want to see what a pain in the ass you were?”

 

Sanghyuk feels nauseous. He’d rather drink sewage than Minwon’s blood, even if it were to recover valuable memories. He looks down at his hands.

 

“No.”

 

“The same could be said for you drinking from him,” Taekwoon interrupts, still as a statue by the railing.

 

There’s a spark in Sanghyuk’s chest, a slow blooming of the reality of how different Taekwoon and Minwon are, however the same they may have seemed at first. Taekwoon can be difficult, a pain in the ass really, but his heart is in the right place. He loves his family. He loves--he likes Sanghyuk.

 

“But it doesn’t matter,” continues Taekwoon. “Because I know a spell to break the maker-vampire link.”

 

~*~

 

Taekwoon has everything he needs for his hex right on his desk. The vanilla and cinnamon bottled up right next to the pile of white rose petals and supporting chunks of charcoal. Seeing mundane ingredients waiting for him to transmute into the extraordinary always gives him a thrill. He runs his fingers across the tops of the bottles and dips his fingertips into the pile of rose petals.

 

Looking back at the cushioned hovel, he takes in the sight of Sanghyuk and Minwon sat awkwardly next to each other and his stomach burns with contempt. For Minwon to enter  _ his _ home and still be so brazenly arrogant… in the home of a demon… he must be even stupider than he looks. Which Taekwoon is counting on for his plan to work.

 

Hakyeon's holier-than-thou judgement radiates from the opposite corner, and sure enough, when Taekwoon turns back to his lover he's glaring at him, legs and arms crossed in clear aggravated body language. Hakyeon doesn't approve; Hakyeon thinks that evil can be redeemed.

 

Hakyeon is merely projecting--again.

 

"My problem with him isn't as a predator," Taekwoon had explained. "He is morally corrupt, emotionally vicious."

 

"And he hurt Sanghyuk."

 

Hakyeon's eyes had been shrewd, boring into him as if to pick out every thought he'd ever had about Sanghyuk. It made Taekwoon roll his shoulders, tugging the lapels on his jacket and straightening. 

 

"Yes, he hurt Sanghyuk. That is my evidence."

 

"It isn't your cross to bear, Taekwoon."

 

And Taekwoon did not like that answer. He doesn't know how to speak to Sanghyuk like Hakyeon does, with loving words and soft tones, and he has nothing of great value to offer him, neither physically nor emotionally. But he can bear crosses exceptionally well, and he is willing to wear this crown of thorns for Sanghyuk.

 

Back in the present, Taekwoon lights standing candelabras in a great half-circle across the library floor. He takes his time flicking saltwater from his fingertips around the circle to cleanse it. Crystals are placed at the cardinal points. Ivy leaves are scattered underfoot. All of this is nonsense.

 

But Sanghyuk is watching him, and Sanghyuk needs to believe him--Sanghyuk might not be half the witch he is, but he’s a smart man, and he cannot reverse engineer this hex. For some reason, he still has a soft spot for this soul-sucking bastard and he will inevitably take Hakyeon’s side. No, unfortunately Sanghyuk must be kept in the dark about the brothers’ plans.

 

Ah, Hongbin. How it pains Taekwoon to see him a monster--but to think him an exactor of vengeance? He is proud.

 

“I’m ready for you,” Taekwoon says, backing toward the edge of the circle, staring straight ahead at the shadows playing on the darkened wood.

 

Sanghyuk and Minwon come forward together, inching toward Taekwoon on the red persian rug. They are both hesitant but only Minwon looks afraid, and Taekwoon has to fight a smirk.

 

“Please,” Taekwoon extends his hand, “both of you in the center facing me.”

 

Sanghyuk takes Minwon’s wrist to guide him in place and the shock of jealousy that runs through Taekwoon’s core is palpable in the air--he knows this because he’s begun raising the energy needed for the spell, and the backlash of negative energy cuts through the room like a quick but deep chill up everyone’s spine.

 

“What was that?” Minwon balks and leans away from Sanghyuk.

 

Sanghyuk, too, looks worried. “Taekwoon?”

 

“Nothing but a disturbance in the energy. It's fine."

 

He takes them by the arms and places them where he wants in the circle, facing him. They both take off their shirts and Hakyeon collects them to fold on another polished wooden desk by the door.

 

This time around Taekwoon doesn't bother trying to hide his appraisal of Sanghyuk's body. Resting his hand on Sanghyuk's hip, his eyes travel up his lean stomach to his taut chest, and Taekwoon knows his eyes are red with  _ want _ , but he doesn't particularly care.

 

Sanghyuk ducks his head, but he's sporting a little smile that says he knows. The charcoal glides across his chest to complete the pentagram. It's dark enough in the candlelit room that no one else sees Taekwoon's thumb glide over Sanghyuk's nipple as he moves away, pulling a sweet sound of surprise from him.

 

Taekwoon moves to stand in front of Minwon.

 

Hakyeon was right. Taekwoon wants Sanghyuk. He wants Sanghyuk and he wants Hakyeon, he wants them together, and he wants this bastard out of his way to do it.

 

Schooling his face into a neutral frown, Taekwoon drawns a quick pentagram over Minwon's heart.

 

"How do I know I can trust you?" Minwon says. With a quick look over to the desk, he continues, "These ingredients are for taking something away."

 

Taekwoon stares at Minwon a moment, a thin-lipped expression of annoyance. Taekwoon had forgotten Minwon had owned the magic shop before Sanghyuk.

 

Taekwoon knows he looks intimidating, being at least three inches taller than the man and the remnants of red swirling in his irises. But he needs to play the sensible, good friend right now.

 

"I have no reason to lie to you," Taekwoon says, drawing his own pentagram on his hand. "Sanghyuk wants to be free of you just as much. I'm doing this for him. As for the ingredients, of course. I'm  _ taking away  _ your link."

 

Minwon gives a sarcastic shrug, and he must not really believe in the power of Taekwoon. That's perfect. Taekwoon pretends to read his own scribbles in a book which are actually transmutations.

 

"Sanghyuk, please stand behind him, hands on his shoulder blades."

 

Taekwoon must balance Sanghyuk in this procession carefully. He must make it seem like he's included, but not let him get hurt. He'll give him superfluous things to do and hope he doesn't realize.

 

Hovering a hand over Minwon's chest pentagram, he closes his eyes. His thinks of his fangs and his claws, all the people he must have hurt with them, including Sanghyuk. This raises energy rather quickly, buzzing and swirling around his hand and between them.

 

The grey mush of flowers and spices waits for him on the table, and as Taekwoon raises a spoonful of it to Minwon's mouth, there is suspicion in Sanghyuk's eyes.

 

"Now, blood must be spilt. Sanghyuk, bite his wrist, then swipe it through the flames of the candelabra."

 

Minwon seems dazed, and the magic is already working. He unbuttons his wrist button and pushes his sleeve up and offers his arm to Sanghyuk with no fight, not even a snarky comment, and now Sanghyuk definitely knows something is wrong.

 

But he looks from Minwon to Taekwoon several times, and when his eyes fall on Minwon there is a sadness there, a look of grievance, and with Minwon's arm in both hands he leans down to bite into his wrist softly, carefully.

 

Blood dripping, he waves Minwon's arm through the fire. 

 

Taekwoon speaks over him on the other side.

 

"By violence your magic won,

Now your magic come undone."

 

For a moment the fires flare. As they die back down, Sanghyuk is at Minwon's side. He wobbles as he turns and uses the desk to steady himself.

 

"Really… takes a lot out of you, doesn't it?" he asks. He wipes the sweat off his brow.

 

"I've prepared for this very natural reaction. I've a room for you to rest in. Please, come with me."

 

As Taekwoon and Minwon leave together, he can feel the glares of both Hakyeon and Sanghyuk heavy on his back.

  
  


~*~

 

"Here is your room."

 

Taekwoon opens the door and has to stop himself from shoving Minwon inside. The vampire is moving so  _ slowly _ now.

 

He closes the door behind him once he finally shuffles inside.

 

Minwon looks around at the purple and gold decorations and scoffs. "Too fancy for my tastes," he says, and turns around fully toward the fire to see Hongbin leaning against the fireplace.

 

At first he jumps, but his features immediately morph into something more predatory.

 

"Aren't you a pretty little boy. Are you part of the room and board?"

 

Hongbin wants to gag. But if that's the way he wants to play this, then so be it. He steps forward, demure, hands behind his back, letting a curl fall into his eyes.

 

"I feel good when people call me pretty."

 

Hongbin continues to advance on his prey, swaying his hips, licking his fangs back into place.

 

Minwon simple stands in the middle of Hongbin's room, looking drunk, but for all the world still very arrogant.

 

"I can make you feel a lot better than that."

 

Hongbin pounces, flitting Minwon toward the door and pinning him against it with a choke hold. His teeth are fully bared though he has to look down at Minwon, who is now shaking underneath him.

 

"Oh god.. where are my claws.. my fangs…"

 

Minwon paws at his mouth frantically, eyes wild as he takes in Hongbin's form.

 

"I'm afraid you don't deserve those.  _ Sweetheart _ ."

 

It's so easy with his new powers and renewed body to hold Minwon against the door even as he struggles for his life. The fear in his eyes quells something deep and dark inside of him, something new and dangerous.

 

"Listen." He wriggles in Hongbin's grasp. "Listen I don't know what Sanghyuk told you. But--"

 

"I'm so lucky," Hongbin says, "to have a maker like Sanghyuk. He would never leave me, or talk down to me.

 

"But you said so many nasty things to him. He'll always carry your words with him, like little scars. That makes me very sad."

 

Exaggerating a pout, Hongbin runs his finger along Minwon's trembling lips. He gets close, so close their noses almost touch.

 

"I don't think you deserve the privilege of speaking anymore."

 

Wrenching his jaw open, Hongbin forces his fist into Minwon's mouth as it stifles his yells. His claws sink deep into the muscle of his tongue and he rips it out, throwing it over his shoulder.

 

The blood is a beautiful sight, flowing over his screaming mouth and down the front of his shirt.

 

"Oh," Hongbin moans, " _ yes _ ."

 

The blood flows faster than he can lap it up, warm and thick and vaguely spicy. It satisfies a driving thirst like he's never felt before, warming him from inside of his core.

 

He forgets about Sanghyuk and Minwon, about vengeance, there is only the blood and the need. He jerks Minwon's head to the side, slashing his big artery with a claw and bringing Minwon's body up to meet his mouth.

 

Minwon is screaming. He claws at Hongbin's back with blunt fingernails. His shoes kick against the door and Hongbin's shins with little effect. 

 

All through this, Hongbin simply drinks, sucking the life force out of him. Taking everything, the complete and final form of dominance. Hongbin breaks off, panting, throwing Minwon's body to the ground.

 

He wants more.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're getting so close to the end ahhhh thank you for whoever has stuck with me through my story  
> the next chapter is the threesome i will deliver i promise :P

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing fic 🙈  
> it's very loosely based on beauty & the beast  
> come say hi on [twitter](http://twitter.com/vampiresanghyuk)


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